Special Education
by RisanF
Summary: Goku meets up with Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn early, two years before the 22nd Tenka'ichi Budokai, having postponed his training due to the new girlfriend in his life. It is none other than Arale, who wants training in the martial arts. Get ready!
1. Tale 1

_Disclaimer: Dragon Ball is the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies, as well as all characters within. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them._

Legend:

( ) Denotes thoughts.

{ } Denotes sound effects.

* * *

Far off the mainland in the western sea, the tiny island home of Kame-Sen'nin appeared as a single speck in the deep blue yonder. The Turtle Hermit's modest Kame House spoke of a soul that needed little and wanted naught, content with a few palm trees to liven up the scenery, and maybe the odd dirty magazine or two. Conversely, the man of the house was not currently enjoying a Playboy, but instead busied himself with the training of his second most prosperous student. It was light play for the two of them, but at the speed at which these two moved, it would be nothing less than life-or-death combat for anyone else.

"Hyaaah!" Kuririn cried, rushing forward with a fierce claw fist. {VVVSH!} His attack rent the air as the old master slid deftly to the side, keeping his stance tight and free of any openings. The young Orin monk pressed his attack further, transforming his momentum into a spinning double kick aimed for Kame-Sen'nin's head. {SHI-SWHAA!} This too, was avoided; a few simple jerks of the head kept him clear of Kuririn's heels.

{SHOKA SHOKA SHOKA!} Kame-Sen'nin bat away Kuririn's fists and feet effortlessly, controlling the flow of battle and preventing the boy from gaining the upper hand. And yet he was impressed; his young pupil's attacks were focused on only his opponent, without inflicting any unnecessary collateral damage on the premises. Still, he took the pleasure of taunting his pupil. "Not up to snuff today, Kuririn?" he crowed, his eyes glinting humorously behind his ever present sunglasses.

"Oh yeah?" The boy's narrow eyes sparkled with a similar mischief. "Watch this, master!" Avoiding a small jab from the codger's crooked hand, Kuririn shifted just outside of his reach, taking up a squat stance. {ZNNNN!} With a slight displacement of air, his body became intangible, non-corporal, a specter of the past.

Kame-Sen'nin mouth broke into a snaggle-toothed smile, though he could easily see the trickery Kuririn had employed. "Ah, you're using the Double Shadow Technique now," he commented, his eyes glancing between the ghost and a second ghost Kuririn had produced with his martial skill. "However..."

As if on instinct, he thrust his crooked staff in a seeming random direction, which just so happened to be where the real Kuririn was creeping up from. {THUD!} the staff made contact with the boy's chin, snapping his head back almost forty-five degrees. {PMMF!} Kame-Sen'nin continued with a quick jab to the boy's solar plexus, and Kuririn folded into himself like a broken accordion. At that point, the old master simply backed off, waiting for the boy to catch his breath.

"A word to the wise, Kuririn," Kame-Sen'nin quipped, folding his arms behind his back. "Don't announce your secret moves before you use them."

"...I'll try," he choked out, clutching his chest.

The old man let his aging muscles relax from the brief workout, getting out a few kinks that definitely weren't there fifty years ago. "That was a good match, but your abilities won't grow further until you learn to spread your wings," he instructed tartly, making for a good facsimile of a strict headmaster. "You don't have much else to learn from me, so why don't you get out in the world and stop adding to my grocery tab?"

"I've got nowhere else to go." Kuririn looked a bit embarrassed here, and averted his gaze. "...and I guess I'm kinda waiting for Goku to return from his three year training trip."

"Ho ho, it's only been a year so far." The old man laughed. "That monkey boy does everything full out, especially training. No, Kuririn, he won't return until his time is up."

Kuririn lowered his head and muttered a reluctant agreement. Then, a ghost of realization crossed his face, his eyes tracking a distant blip on the horizon. To Kame-Sen'nin's curiosity, he walked over to the shoreline, the foamy waves licking at his shoes. The monk's eyes widened, his jaw loosening a bit.

"If Goku's not coming, what's that?" he demanded of the old man, pointing off into the distance. Kame-Sen'nin approached the shore, his eyebrows curling suspiciously. The doubt in his face soon turned to astonishment, as he spied a saffron streak cutting the clouds like a knife. {HYUUUNNN...!}

Swirling downward at an alarming rate, the buttery blur quickly morphed into a young boy riding atop a small cloud. He guided his unorthodox steed towards the small island, maneuvering in a looping pattern of aerial excellence. Swooped past Kame-Sen'nin and Kurirun and making their clothes rustle, he turned a 180 around them, and surrounded them with a ring of yellow ozone. He hopped off the zooming cloud with practiced ease and turned to them with a wave, his shock of black hair and open smile unmistakable as Son Goku trademarks. "Hiya!"

"Yo, Goku!" With a huge grin pasted on his face, Kurirun scampered over to his best friend, peppering him with light punches to the shoulders and ribs. "You're back already!"

"Heh heh!" Goku laughed, warding off the blows half-heartedly. "What's up?"

"So, the prodigal son returns." Kame-Sen'nin greeted him with a smile, walking over to Goku. Then, he swiftly gonked the boy over the head with his staff. "What are you doing back here?" the man hissed, teeth gnashed in a horrible grimace. "I told you to keep traveling for three years!"

"Ow...!" Goku rubbed his head, lofting his spiky bangs about.

"And riding Kinto'un to boot." The old master shook his head in shame. "Hmph! That's a direct violation of the conditions we agreed upon. You fail, Son Goku! You fail!" He posted a piece of paper to Goku's forehead, bearing the letter "F" along with a date for a parent-teacher conference.

"Yeah, that's what I wanted to talk to ya about." Goku peeled the paper off his skin and tossed it to the side. "A lotta stuff happened, and I found one of those things you and Kuririn are always talkin' about. You know, with the long hair, and the kissing, and the dead flowers and boxes of sweet stuff."

"...Girlfriend?" Kuririn supplied hesitantly.

"Yeah, that's it!" Goku smiled, putting his fists on his hips. "One of those!"

Upon absorbing this information. Kuririn's eyes goggled out of his head. "Whoa, Goku!" he exclaimed, looking at the boy as if he had just grown a tail...well, a second tail. "You got a girlfriend? Since when did you start playing the field?"

"Well done, my boy!" Kame-Sen'nin cheered, clapping Goku on the back. "That is a excellent reason to shirk off training! So tell me, what's she like? Big bazooms, like Miss 34-C?"

"Bazooms?" Goku stumbled on the colloquialism. "Well, she can hit really hard, and shoot a big beam out of her mouth, so I guess those are bazooms."

"Heh, whatever makes you happy." Kuririn shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

"Flat, huh?" Kame Sennin's face fell. "Already I'm skeptical."

"But she's really nice, and a lot of fun," Goku continued on, unperturbed. "Kinda weird, though."

As Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn tried to cobble up a mental image of the mystery girl, Goku wandered away from them, distracted by a distant glimmer on the sea. "Hey, there she is now!" He smiled, and shielded his eyes from the sun.

Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn looked to the sea, not finding anything but the churning of the ocean. Then their eyes widened, as they observed the sea churning a little bit too much for a calm day such as this, like buttermilk instead of water. A distant froth was forming from the south, spreading horizontally like a closed curtain. It slowly began to dawn on the two of them that there was a tidal wave the height of a small office building approaching the island, and fast.

The master and student were united in stark horror, cringing away from the oncoming calamity. Clinically, they observed how the wave formed around a single human figure, who was running on the skin of the water and kicking it behind like a speedboat on speed. "Wait, wait, wait!" it squealed in a ear-splitting voice, audible even from this distance. "I'm coming, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn had no time to run or even turn around before the tidal wave overtook the beach. As they cried their protests, they were swept up to the top of Kame House like refuge, along with a mound of sand and a few coconuts. The wave folded over them and exploded onto everything, drenching the palm trees and leaving the house looking like it had been through a car wash. When it was over, the island looked more like a water park than a hermit's home.

Water pouring from every orifice, Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn observed a wet, smiling Goku on the island, who had somehow managed to keep his footing even with an Olympic sized pool's worth of water crashing down on him. He was grinning excitedly at the new arrival: a small girl about Goku's height with long, violet hair that curled at the tips. She was wearing a pair of blue/grey dungarees, and a baseball cap adorned with two angel wings on the sides. Her eyes were encased by thick, round glasses, magnifying a pudgy face that bore a remarkable similarity to Goku's, both in shape and expression.

The girl peered curiously at the waterlogged pair on the roof, as if trying to figure out what they were doing there. Then she smiled, greeting them with a wave. "N'cha!" she called up to them. "I'm here!"

* * *

**Special Education**

**By Reid M. Haynes**

**Tale 1: Goku's Angel**

* * *

"I guess the old shell needed a rinse anyway." Kame-Sen'nin took off the tortoise shell strapped to his back and poured out the water inside, which rolled off the roof shingles and down the drainage pipe.

"Yeesh, Goku," Kuririn grumbled, making his way from the side of the house to the ground. "You sure know how to pick 'em. Who is she, anyway?"

Goku smiled, walking over to the young girl that had split the sea with her sprint. "Guys, this is Arale," he told them, putting his arm around her shoulders. "I met her in this place called Penguin Village."

"Yeah!" The girl beamed a spotlight smile, scooting closer to Goku. "Me and Go-kun beat up a big bad guy, so now we're traveling together to beat up some more bad guys. That's really fun!" Arale giggled, a sound that was less schoolgirl and more Saturday morning sugar craze.

(He'd moved up to cutesy honorifics.) Kurinn goggled at the two, his upper lip twitching reflexively. He observed the monkey boy's closeness to the girl, his hand stationed on her shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. (This girlfriend thing's for real!)

Arale pulled away from Goku and brought out the overnight bag slung to her back. "I brought everything I need," she explained, emptying the contents onto the beach. Among various odds and ends, there was a few baby bottles filled with some sort of liquid, some Godzilla and Mothra action figures, and a couple coiled piles of what appeared to be...well, it was dog poo. "All the essentials!" Arale sang, thrusting up Godzilla and Mothra like prized artifacts.

"There's even a martial art gi in there!" Goku added, motioning to the folded clothes that had also tumbled out of the bag.

"And a toothbrush!" She pulled up a well-worn brush.

As the two tykes continued through Arale's belongings, Kame-Sen'nin gave the girl a quick once-over. "Hmm, I always thought he'd end up with that Chi-Chi girl," he mused, toying with his long beard.

Kuririn, for his part, observed the girl as she made gargling noises for Godzilla's fire breath, and slammed Mothra straight into the poo piles with a sloppy splat. "No master, this is pretty much exactly what I expected Goku's girlfriend to be like," he drolled, his eyes dull with disinterest.

"Well now, let's take a look here, shall we?" The old master meandered over to Arale, sizing her up with an expert eye. He tilted her chin with the tip of his staff to inspect her every feature. "Good dimples, and the hat's a nice touch. Hair's a little messy, but the color brings out the eyes. You still look like a kewpie doll, though." The old man turned to Goku with a disapproving glare. "Goku, what I did I tell you about girls?" he scolded the boy. "Busty is always best!"

"Hakase said he'd give me breasts in two years!" Arale bubbled, making circular motions around her chest as if she were spinning clay pots. "Boom boom, bazoom!"

"You know a plastic surgeon?" he asked, interest creeping up in his voice. "One of the most affluent people of our modern society?"

"Hoyo?" Arale blinked twice. "He's a scientist."

It was now Kame-Sen'nin's turn to be confused. He stepped back from the girl and scratched his head, trying to figure out how everything added up.

"You know, she's still pretty cute though," Kuririn broke in, sauntering up to the two with his hands behind his head. "Got that whole Cameron Diaz thing going on."

"So she does, so she does." The old man nodded sagely. "Not bad at all for Goku's first try."

"Arale-chan says she wants special training, 'kay?" Goku had no trace on trepidation on his face. "I took her here so you could show her some moves."

"I want wham bam punching skills so I can break faces!" Arale agreed, nodding vigorously.

"What?" Here, Kame-Sen'nin whirled to Goku, refusal written all over his face. "You want me to take on another boarder? I was just getting used to having some food around with you gone, and now I'm supposed to feed all four of you, including Lunch?"

"Cameron Diaz..." Kuririn reminded him, hissing insistently.

"But she doesn't eat!" Goku protested, picking up one of the baby bottles and shaking it in front of the old master's face. "She just drinks this stuff!"

Kame-Sen'nin turned cross-eyed at the mystery beverage under his nose. "Some sort of health food nut?" he ventured, frowning in confusion.

"And she's really strong too!" he continued, obviously missing the question. He turned to Arale. "Hey Arale-chan, show 'em what you showed me!" he called out to her.

"Okay!" she squealed, raising her hand. Moving past Kuririn, she stopped in front of a palm tree, its leaves still drooping from the previous water works. She tightened up and prepared a fist for this obvious target. "Wham..." she growled under her breath, and Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn instinctively cringed, fearing they had another pint sized titan on their hands.

"...BAM!" and with one punch, she splintered the tree into tiny fragments. Shards of wood spiraled out like a scattergun blast, a tornado of destruction flying towards the sea.

"I'm gonna bring in my things!" Arale smiled with satisfaction at her wanton devastation. Walking back over to the group, she gathered her possessions into her overnight bag, taking extra care with the poo piles. The girl strode over to Kame House like she had lived there for months, with Goku following in step beside her. Goku turned his head briefly back at Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn, flashing a bright smile for the both of them.

"Isn't she great?" he said, a cheery laugh bouncing from his tongue. Together, he and Arale disappeared behind the door, leaving it swinging loosely behind them.

Kame-Sen'nin's jaw hung slack, and a blob of drool oozed down into his beard. "Yes," he spoke in a tiny voice. "I think she fits the bill."

* * *

"It's lunch time!" Lunch announced as she carried a tray of sandwiches to the kitchen table. As soon as she set it down, the number of sandwiches reduced rapidly as Goku swept them up into his mouth one after another. Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn sighed helplessly as they watched every last slice of luncheon meat, every pickle, disappear down his gullet before they could even lay a hand on them. Arale, for her part, simply sucked away at her bottle, her socks resting on the shell of Sea Turtle, who had joined them inside to discuss Arale's future.

"It's been quite a while since Master Goku has joined us for a meal," Sea Turtle remarked, lifting his head out from its slump to study the small group. "I dare say we should stock up on glazed ham next time. The honey-baked variety is exquisite."

"The days we could afford glazed ham are over, pal," Kuririn grumbled along with his stomach. "Goku's back, so shopping's gonna be quantity over quality now."

"So you say you're from a island without Capsule technology!" Lunch said to Arale, picking up a small jar of pepper. "I've always loved small, out-of the-way places! That's why I'm staying here."

"Yeah, but I hadda go with Goku," the girl responded, lowering the bottle to her lap. "I left Ga-chans 1 and 2 back home. They're probably bored by now, and eating the house."

"Your pets?" Kame-Sen'nin's hand crept up on a small sandwich that had escaped Goku's grubby hands. "Don't you mean 'eating you out of house and home?'"

"No, eating the house," she corrected, her eyes shifting over to the sandwich the old man was fingering. To Kame-Sen'nin's frustration, she plucked up the sandwich and presented it to Goku, who opened his big maw in preparation. She then stuffed the morsel into the boy's mouth, who engulfed it within his teeth. "Yum yum!" Arale chimed cheerfully, as Goku smiled his appreciation through a mouthful of bread and baloney.

"I wish I had a girlfriend that would feed me by hand," Kuririn muttered, slumping his cheek on his fist. "I can't believe Goku's further along in the dating game than the master and I."

The same thought had occurred to Kame-Sen'nin, his face shriveling up with wounded masculine pride. "W-well, I'm sure you understand that the outside world is likely a lot more dangerous than the nice island town you hail from." He coughed into his fist, bringing his attention back to Arale. "You'll need a strict martial arts regimen to prepare for your upcoming trials."

"That's right!" Lunch agreed, shaking the pepper over the last remaining BLT. "There's a lot of bad people out there! Thieves, and gangsters, and ah, ah, ahhhh...!" Her hand rose to her mouth, her nose wrinkling as the pepper agitated her sinuses. Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn cringed.

"Yes, a lot of unsavory riff-raff out there!" the old man laughed nervously, covering Lunch's mouth to stifle her sneeze. Lunch stiffened for a moment, then relaxed with a hum. The tension fell from the air as Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn sighed with relief.

Arale stared at them with a blank expression. "Hoyo-yo..." Goku, meanwhile, snatched the BLT off the table and slurped it up with a sloppy smack of his lips.

"Anyway, we'll have to move to a larger island for your training," the old master continued, keeping one eye on Lunch and making a mental note to explain to Arale the young woman's special condition, as well as her own brushes with the law. "Are you sure you're ready to commit, Arale? My program is not for the faint of heart."

"Yup!" She nodded. "I'm top of the class in P.E. at school!"

"Then I accept you as my student on special recommendation from Goku." Kame-Sen'nin smiled, offering a hand to her. "For now, you may stay in the guest room."

"Yayyy!" Arale cheered in victory, rising from her chair and shaking his hand with a steely grip.

"Speakin' of training, where's Yamcha?" Goku asked. "Isn't he supposed to be here getting stronger?"

"Ah, Yamcha, he's gone." The old man shook his head with disappointment. "He and Bulma broke up again for one reason or another. Afterwards, he was too distracted to commit to any serious training, and so he up and left one day."

"I'll tell ya, it wasn't two days before they were going at it," Kuririn added, leaning forward to stare Goku straight in the eye. "If you're going to have a girlfriend, you gotta learn a few things about women."

"Huh?" The monkey boy's tail twitched in response to this. "Aren't you just supposed to be nice to them and stuff?"

"Yeah." Arale draped her arms over Goku like a warm scarf, peering over his head at Kuririn. "We don't fight or anything, unless we're beating each other up."

"She's really fun to spar with," Goku added as an aside, a smile once again on his face. "It takes two days for me to heal from her punches!"

"Like it's that simple!" The monk huffed, veins pulsating on his temples. "You need counselors and self-helps books and advice columns if you want to stand a chance in this dog-eat-dog world of dating!" He moaned exaggeratedly, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Don't you know anything?"

Arale paid Kuririn's exasperation no mind, and was soon back to perusing the tray, finding it barren of any more food to feed Goku. Her gaze then lowered to Sea Turtle, still situated below the table. She placed both hands on his shell and hoisted him up. "Do you eat turtle?" she asked Goku, holding the tortoise aloft.

"Lady Arale, please abstain!" Sea Turtle wailed, his pudgy legs kicking futilely.

"Nah." Goku waved her off, seemingly oblivious to the tortoise's plight. "Sea Turtle said he didn't taste very good, anyway."

"My word!" Sea Turtle was rife with indignation as Arale placed him back on the floor like a piece of furniture.

"I see we're going to have to lay down some ground rules," Kame-Sen'nin groused. "Number one: don't feed Goku animals that talk."

* * *

MEANWHILE

The heat wave seared across the Diablo Desert like hot sauce across the tongue, torching the arid landscape into a dry husk. Only a few crooked trees made their way out from under the sands, clawing desperately at the rather thin clouds in the heavens. The cavernous rock formations caught the light and shone brilliantly, giving some glamor to an otherwise lifeless stage. Otherwise, it was a scene out of the Book of Death.

Strafing the rock formations, a minivan tore through the desert as if pursued by a pack of wolves. The middle-aged couple inside were stricken with wild-eyed terror; the man's hands glued to the wheel, and his wife desperately shuffling through the maps. The man took corners like vacation packages, moving fast to get out of the desert and into a hotel as soon as possible. His weaving pattern suggested a getaway route; a series of quick turns designed to shake whomever or whatever was following him...and the whos and whats were in equal force that afternoon.

{SHEEEEE...!} a rocket cut out from behind some underbrush, shooting towards the minivan's back tires. {BA-BOMB!} its roaring inferno blasted apart the entire back of the van, sending the vehicle toppling forward like a Olympic gymnast gone wrong. With scorched tires and shredded metal tearing off the minivan, it slid along the dunes, leaving a train of wreckage behind it. Even before the van had completely skidded to a stop, the man and woman had pushed out onto the sands, desperate to make one last break for it.

The couple had only just began to run when they found their assailant bearing down on them, freezing them in their tracks. The RPG had been loaded with another rocket, and its wielder had drawn a bead on their position. The young desert bandit hadn't shown himself in these parts for quite a while, and it was believed he had moved on to greener pastures. But the bandit himself knew differently; this was his home, after all, and the prime location to get reacquainted with his old ways.

"Surrender your capsules and valuables!" Yamcha barked out to the couple from his sand skiff, his short ponytail lapping at his nape. "And you might get out of here alive!"

"You better do what Lord Yamcha says," his cat companion chimed from his shoulder, ears flipping back and forth. "He's been really mad ever since Bulma dumped him."

"Pu'ar, shut up!" Yamcha hissed through the corner of his mouth. "They don't need to know about that!"

It was all true, though. Yamcha crawled through his memories as if they were wrapping in barbed wire, gritting his teeth as the painful truth sank in. He tried to comfort himself with the notion that this particular breakup had been entirely Bulma's fault. After all, she was the one that constantly combed the beach for rough 'n' tough brawlers that looked like they had been trapped for a year in a vault with nothing but barbells and weight gain formula. He didn't have nearly as much of a wandering eye as Bulma claimed he did; his encounters with the fairer sex had been at arms length the whole time.

But in the end, there was one thing Yamcha knew about Bulma after dating her for over a year, and that was that she preferred nothing less than the shoujo manga ideal; the bad boy. Ninety-eight percent of the young men she sought after were stony-faced, conceited snobs fond of posturing and monologues. Actually, Yamcha had been like that once, back when Pu'ur and himself roamed the dunes as desert bandits for fortune and glory. Ironically, a few months with Bulma had beaten this out of him, and now the young inventor seemed ready to move on to the next bad boy and repeat the process.

(Well, if Bulma wants a bad boy, than that's what she'll get!) Yamcha smiled crookedly as he adjusted the weapon on his shoulder, settling into his anti-hero role with much aplomb. (They'll have to put my face next to the definition of "Byronic Hero!")

"Drop any and all byronics...I mean, electronics on the ground!" Yamcha continued, coughing self-consciously. "Or you'll taste another sample of my Pauzer Faust!"

"You've spent too much time reading chick lit, sir," Pu'ar sighed, as he floated towards the hapless couple to collect the booty.

"Stop!" a sharp voice panged from above, as Pu'ar was honing in on the valuables the couple had dispensed for them. Yamcha's eyes stole towards the clouds, spying a shadowy figure perched along high one of the rock formations. The figure vaulted in a low arc towards the couple, followed soon after by a second figure. Both shadows were small and lithe, their bodies rolling through the air like baseballs slung by a master pitcher.

In no time, they had landed on the desert sands, creating a divide between the two bandits and their victims. The one in front, a very familiar looking girl with long dark hair, shifted into a balanced position based on the regional martial arts traditions of the outlying areas. Her friend, a rather-proper looking young lad with twin cowlicks, glasses, and suspenders, followed suit with a different stance, one closer to boxing than kung fu. Both of them looked quite fierce.

"Stealin' is bad!" the girl declared, shaking her fist. "Ya'll let that booty go, hoodlums!"

"Desist in your reckless behavior!" The boy thrust a righteous digit at Yamcha. "We do not wish to harm you!"

(That's Ox Princess Chi-Chi!) Yamcha's eye twitched at the sight of Gyu-Mao's daughter and her unknown ally. (But who's the other kid?)

He shook off his questions momentarily, a sneer reappearing on his face. "Funny, I've been saying the same thing to these guys," Yamcha growled in response to the warnings. He whirled quickly to his partner in crime. "Pu'ar, let's go!" he commanded.

"Yes, sir!" the cat shouted back, darting over to the side behind an outcropping of rocks.

Yamcha quickly brought his Pauzer Faust up to bear, and let loose a soaring rocket straight for Chi-Chi. {FWOOM!} As if perfectly trained for such an occasion, the mystery boy darted in front of the princess and booted the rocket on its exhaust pipe, sending it skywards to detonate harmlessly above their heads. {KA-BOOM!} Chi-Chi was already rushing Yamcha, her arms pumping like pistons as she bore down on him at breakneck speed. The boy meanwhile, attended to the needs of the couple, clearing them out of the way of the upcoming melee.

"Wanna challenge me, kid!" Yamcha growled, letting the Pauzer Faust fall to his side. He reached behind for his sword, drawing its curved blade from the sheath just in time to meet the girl's attack head on.

{VREEEN!} Yamcha's blade carved through the air in a half-moon slice at Chi-Chi's neck, who span away mere centimeters from the sharpened edge. She sprung back with a flying knee-blow aimed at Yamcha's midsection, forcing him to block the close-ranged attack. The desert bandit quickly darted backwards to recover the distance, opting next for a series of shivering swings akin to a baton twirler's routine. {SHEEV! SHEEV!} Chi-Chi swayed with the motions easily, then jumped in with a flurry of punches as soon as an opening emerged.

{BWOK! BWOK! BWOK!} The young fighter reeled back from the ferocity of Chi-Chi's attack, performing a series of frantic blocking maneuvers in a desperate attempt to regain ground. "You big, shaggy meanie!" she wailed at him, her eyes squinting with anger. "I bet you don't wash under yer armpits!" The young princess was fighting a lot better than their last encounter, Yamcha realized, especially considering she had foregone her boomerang-bladed, laser-shooting helmet in favor of straight-up martial arts. Worse still, he was fundamentally weak on defense, and Chi-Chi was definitely the dominant force in this battle. (Maybe I should've stayed on with the old man...)

Several meters outside of Yamcha and Chi-Chi's bout, the proper young lad was approaching fast, fresh from escort duty for the middle-aged couple. "Obotchaman, hurry up!" Chi-Chi called out behind her, as she performed a spinning kick towards Yamcha's skull.

(Obotchaman.) Yamcha mentally logged this information as he evaded Chi-Chi's attack. He pulled out a small handgun from his side, forcing Chi-Chi to break off her attack and avoid the impending rounds. {PAM!}{PAM!}

Obotchaman had almost reached Yamcha and Chichi when a dark, whirling sphere cut off his destination route. {BA-BOOM!} the object detonated, pushing the boy back with the subsequent shock wave. Struggling to get to his feet, Obotchaman craned his neck to find Pu'ar hovering above him, who had retrieved a bag of cannonball bombs from a hidden stockpile. "For the honor of Lord Yamcha!" the cat roared in triumph, holding another sparking explosive.

"Where does a cat get such artillery?" Obotchaman wondered out loud, his disbelief shining through his glasses. "Have you visited the Penguin Village police armory?"

"I love using these, especially when I'm in videogames," Pu'ar explained, holding the bomb up high. "Haven't you ever played Dragon Power or Dragon Ball: Advanced Adventure?"

"The latter was quite sufficient, but the former left something to be desired," the boy answered, averting his gaze for the moment.

"Quiet!" Without further ado, Pu'ar hurled the explosive at Obotchaman's feet, who tumbled into a roll to avoid the impending blast. {BA-BOOM!} Pu'ar lit two more bombs and tossed those as well, forcing the boy back even further. {KOOM!}{KOOM!} Soon, Obotchaman was scurrying all over the place, struggling to stay one step ahead of the bombastic barrage. The flying cat kept up a steady rhythm, dropping bombs as if they were on some sort of assembly line.

Obotchaman grit his teeth, letting one of the bombs whiz past him without dodging. "No more of this!" Squinting his eyes under the blazing sun, he snatched the next bomb out of the air and flung it straight back at Pu'ar. The cat freaked for a moment as his own projectile whirled towards him, detonating mere inches from his aerial position. {BOMB!} "Ah!" he squeaked, dropping the bag of bombs to shield his face from the rushing heat.

The lull in Pu'ar's attack was all he needed, and Obotchaman was on him in an instant. He took to the air with a flying punch that the cat had only seconds to dodge. {SHOOOK!} Pu'ar snapped into action, and used his inherent shapeshifting skills to transform into a hammer like those used at carnival games. {PON!} Pu'ar twirled through the air and made a grand swing at Obotchaman's head. {SHWOOP!}

The boy was momentarily surprised at his opponent's tanooki prowess, but reacted quickly enough to get out of the way of the hammer's war path. He traded blows with Pu'ar as the cat continued to change his shape; a hornet, a spiked club, a pair of pruning sheers. But though he was an expert shapeshifter, he could only keep up intense close-combat for a few moments, and was tiring fast.

{WHOOOF!} Obotchman's fist sank into Pu'ar's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. {BAM!} he followed up with a punt that sent the cat into one of the rock formations, his small body embedding itself within the stone. "It's all up to you, Lord Yamcha..." Pu'ar groaned, as the rock cracked around him. Then, he fell back to the sand with a {POMPH!}, out like a light.

Obotchaman regarded his fallen foe with a twinge of regret, then hurried back towards Chi-Chi to aid his ally. Yamcha was so busy with the persnickety princess that he had no time to attend to this new threat, and Obotchaman took the opportunity to knock the sword right out of his hand. Yamcha now found himself dealing with both Chi-Chi and Obotchaman's double team assault: a simultaneous flurry of fists that he had to divide equal attention between. They worked well as a pair, forcing the bandit to perform twice as hard to evade their blows.

He knew he was losing. Pu'ar was down for the count, and he couldn't keep going at full strength much longer. Finally fed up, Yamcha fell back into a reverse somersault that carried him outside of Chi-Chi and Obotchaman's immediate sphere. "Alright, just wait a sec!" he protested, pressing his palms out in a pretension of peace.

Chi-Chi and Obotchaman halted their attack at once, stepping back and shifting into upright positions. They waited in front of him as if waiting for the school bus, brushing excess filth from their clothes. "What, you're going to back off just like that?" Yamcha gaped, slumping a bit in the shoulders.

"Yes, we're very good children," Obotchaman answered, placing his hands in his pockets.

"You could've jes' asked us t' stop, ya know." Chi-Chi wrinkled her nose at Yamcha.

"It's important to have good manners at all times," the boy agreed.

Yamcha stared down at the two pint-sized fighters. Then, he raked his hand through his coal-black locks, feeling thoroughly self-conscious about the whole thing.

* * *

The hallway was a bullet chamber, and Kuririn was streaking through the pipe. The young monk eased his way down the narrow expanse to the guestroom Arale was currently occupying, his stride light and confident. He had rubbed his chrome dome to a glistening sheen, and had even washed his clothes with a special detergent. His breath was minty fresh; he had gone through three strips of chewing gum in preparation for his upcoming encounter.

(Arale's too fast for a country bumpkin like Goku.) Kuririn snickered to himself, rounding the corner to the girl's room. (She needs someone more experienced in the ways of amour...like me!) He gave the dating magazine in his hands one more squeeze for luck, then walked through the door of destiny.

Inside, Arale was fitting her possessions into the cramped shelves around the room. There wasn't any particular rhyme or reason to her sorting scheme; everything was just placed next to each other in a random order. Kuririn paid it little mind; this was no time to get technical. Not when you were about to score a date with Cameron Diaz.

"What's a cute girl like you doing all alone in a place like this?" Kuririn crooned, being sure to stay close to the outline depicted in his dating magazine.

"N'cha!" Arale gave him a friendly wave.

Kuririn played it aloof, coasting around the perimeter of the room for inspiration. "So, Godzilla and Mothra huh?" he began, fixing his gaze on the action figures that took up a large amount of space on the shelves. "You know, that show's on just before the Dating Game." He was lying, of course; what kind of network airs a dating show on the same block as a Japanese monster show?

"What's the Dating Game?" she asked, the smile vanishing for the moment.

"Three bachelors, one girl, with the smoothest swinger taking the prize," he explained with a smile, taking the opportunity to sidle up to Arale. "Get the picture?"

"Hey, I know a game we can play!" Arale brightened, as if struck by sudden inspiration.

"Do you now?" Kuririn snaked an arm around her shoulder like a rock star. Inside, he was struggling to hold in his excitement. (Who knows what a wild girl like her has in mind for me?)

"Uh huh!" The girl reached over to the shelves for an object. Kuririn's grin widened, ready for whatever surprise she had in store.

Then, the monk suddenly found his mouth full of a strange, amorphous substance, similar in texture to soft-serve ice cream. Kuririn soon realized that Arale had put one of the poo piles from her collection right on his tongue. She smiled with self satisfaction. "Isn't this fun?" she inquired, clearly expecting an affirmative.

{BRRRING!} the phone rattled from down the hall. "Ooh, phone phone!" Arale cried, leaving Kuririn flash-frozen in the room.

In the living room, Goku was holding the receiver for Arale. "Hey Arale-chan, this thing started making noises, so I picked it up," he babbled, waving the aforementioned object. "Now there's this weird guy talkin' inside of it. I think he's talking about you!"

Arale listened to the insistent barking from the phone for a moment, and soon her face lit up in recognition. "Oh, that's Hakase!" she said, taking the receiver from Goku and putting it to her ear. "N'cha, Hakase!"

"Arale, you suck!" the ornery squawk of Norimaki Senbei emanated from the speaker. "I thought I told you to call as soon as you got in! I've been worried sick since you since you decided to go off with that Goku kid! Where the heck were you today?"

"I've been having lots of fun with Go-kun and his friends!" Arale made a motion with her free hand, as if the inventor could see her through the speaker. "We all ate sandwiches for lunch, except that I fed Go-kun sandwiches, and nobody else had any!"

"Having a good day, huh?" The incredulous laugh from the other end was viscous with sarcasm. "Well, why don't hear how MY day's been! The Ga-chans' chewed up half the kitchen, the teachers keep bugging me on when you're coming back to school, and now that I'm not doing maintenance on your parts any more, I can't write off my electronics purchases as a tax deduction!"

A few pixie peeps could be heard underneath the man's whining, along with a distinct chewing sound. "No, not the new sofa!" Senbei's voice came out distant, as he was speaking away from the receiver. "We're still making payments on that!"

As the girl continued to listen to her benefactor's list of complaints, Kuririn meandered in, gargling with some mouthwash from a half-empty bottle. "Hey Kuririn, where've you been?" Goku asked, as Kuririn fiddled absently with the mouthwash cap. "I thought you said you wanted to talk to Arale about somethin'."

"Forget it man, she's all yours." Kuririn poured the mouthwash into the cap to serve as a makeshift cup. "Bros before hoes, and all that stuff." He chucked the contents of the cap into his mouth, and wandered off to throw his dating mags in the garbage.

"You better get back here right away, or I'm not gonna give you that boob job I promised!" Senbei continued to holler at Arale, who just smiled her pleasure as random thoughts danced before her eyes. "You'll just have to go through all your high school years being the flattest girl in your grade!"

"Hey Hakase, I gotta go," Arale responded as if she hadn't heard him. "I just remembered that Godzilla vs. Gamera is coming on."

"Arale, don't hang up!" The voice became muffled as she pulled the receiver away and lowered it back onto the hook. Arale then turned to Goku with a bright smile. "He really misses me!" she told him.

Goku grinned in response. "A lot of my friends are loud like that," he agreed.

"Wanna watch Godzilla vs. Gamera?" she asked, appealing to him with shining irises. "It's the super cool crossover millennium fight!"

"That's one of those 'kaiju' things, isn't it?" Goku said, as the girl nodded. "Sure, I'll watch it." The two clasped hands and walked over to the living area, where the small archaic television was blaring with static. Arale quickly turned the knob to the appropriate channel, then settled down with her boyfriend, making herself comfortable by his side.

"Is there lots of fighting?" Goku asked her as the program began.

"Yup!" Arale nodded her head as she leaned her head on his shoulder.

* * *

The sun was fading behind the pock-marked landscape, filtering the sands before them in a ruby red hue. Yamcha, Pu'ar, Chi-Chi, and Obotchaman were huddled up outside Yamcha's cave, watching the sunset as they recovered from their battle. The high vantage point of the hideout gave them a great view of their surroundings, allowing them to see all the way to the main road that cut through the desert. Fry-Pan Mountain was still a ways off, though, leaving Yamcha to wonder why the princess has strayed so far from home.

"So you're saying you're sorry and that you won't be a bad man anymore," Obotchaman summarized, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose. "Since no permanent harm was done to the family, we are very pleased to accept your apology."

"Well you know what they say!" Yamcha laughed like an idiot, putting his hand to the back of his head. "All's well that ends well!"

"Right," Pu'ar croaked as he wrapped layer after layer of bandages around his body, making him look like a nursing-themed stuffed toy for young girls. He let out a weak groan, then patted the ground beside him for the salve jar.

"But why d'ya keep actin' like you know me?" Chi-Chi looked at Yamcha with mistrustful eyes. "Have I seen you before?"

The bandit turned to her, and opened his mouth to reveal a missing front tooth. Chi-Chi gasped in shock. "Ah, it's the weird lookin' guy!" she squeaked, putting her hands to her mouth. The bandit could've rolled his eyes at how he had been filed inside the girl's head.

"I remember what you said last time we met," she blurted out, thrusting her face into his. "You said you were in love with me!"

"Er, yeah..." Yamcha sweated at her close proximity, putting a finger to the corner of his lips. Truthfully, he was surprised the girl remembered this, and was at a loss on how to play it. (Not this again!) He seethed inwardly, trying to swallow the nausea he had. (What do I need with this child?)

"You were the only boy to say he loved me," she sighed, her lips pouting. "I sure neva' heard that from my otha' boy."

"Miss Chi-Chi and I have had a hard time of it recently," Obotchaman told him, putting a comforting hand on Chi-Chi's shoulder. "Our true loves had left us in favor of each other, and we are now on an exodus to soothe our souls."

Yamcha nodded, drifting in and out of the diatribe.

Then, an idea sparked in the front of his brain. Suddenly, the bandit took on the slippery persona of a lounge singer, leaning closer. "How could a beautiful lady like you have possibly lost the game of love?" he breathed, putting on a gravely accent and hoping Chi-Chi would buy it. "With raven locks like yours, you'd bring any male to their knees."

"Oh my, you're such a gentleman!" Chi-Chi blushed, putting her hands to her cheeks. "Your ugly missing tooth seems less ugly now!"

"But sir, I thought you said you didn't like younger girls," Pu'ar mentioned to him, looking confused by this turn of events.

"Cool it," Yamcha hissed between his teeth.

"Cooling." Puar obeyed, shutting up right quick.

"I've never forgotten our fateful meeting by Fry-Pan Mountain," Yamcha went on, his eyes adopting the lustre of black pearls. "It was like the stars had aligned just for the two of us."

"Hee hee hee!" Chi-Chi smacked him upside the head, giddy with girlishness. "Oh, you!"

Yamcha was chuckling too, hiding the mercenary gleam under his bangs. Chi-Chi was the sole heir of Gyu-Mao and his vast fortune procured from various conquests. Now that the fire engulfing Fry-Pan Mountain was extinguished, she could lead him straight to the legendary treasure underneath the ruined castle.

Manipulating young lasses; always the first choice in any Byronic Hero's repertoire. Bulma would be salivating at his bad boy cred right about now.

* * *

"Brush-a brush-a brush-a! Here's the new Ipana!" Arale warbled as she vigorously massaged her gums with her toothbrush. "With the brand new flavor! It's dandy for your teeeeeeth!"

Goku poured a beam of toothpaste onto his own brush. "You said that's a 'commercial jingle?'" he inquired, peering over at her. "What's a commercial?"

"It's when they tell you to buy stuff with money," she answered, spitting a mouthful of toothpaste slop into the sink. "I buy everything they show on the Saturday Morning cartoon block."

"Oh, okay." He nodded. Somehow, Arale had the astounding ability to explain things to where Goku could actually understand them. It was really nice to have someone tell him stuff without yelling at him.

The two continued to brush their teeth, smiling into the mirror of the small washroom. They were dressed in their pajamas; Goku's streaked with a simple stripe pattern, and Arale's festooned with Japanese monsters. The boy thought he could recognize some of the creatures from the shows they had watched earlier that evening. Half of them looked like something he had actually fought at one time or another.

"I can't wait to get started training!" Arale squealed, pumping her fists and flicking toothbrush spittle everywhere. "Then we can have even better fights than before!"

"You'll do fine," he encouraged, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I know I did pretty good when I first started trainin' with Grandpa. And you're neat, Arale-chan, so I'll bet you'll catch up to me real quick!"

Arale giggled, sliding her hand over Goku's fingers. "If you're there, then I know I'll have fun!"

* * *

Kame-Sen'nin lie awake in his futon, his sunglasses resting on his bedside to give his eyes a clear view of the ceiling. His sleeping position was stiff; his body sank like a leaden weight into the soft material of the futon, making an indentation as jagged as his bony body. His expression was miserable, his beard ragged, and his underpants ratty. All he wanted was a good night's sleep, but insomnia flowed through his veins, and he remained awake even at 11:00 PM.

"Brush-a brush-a brush-a! Here's the new Ipana!" The obnoxious, sing-song voice bullied its way into the bedroom through layers of drywall. Kame-Sen'nin pulled his pillow out from under his head and covered his ears with it, as if trying to avoid the report of machine gun fire.

It was slowly dawning on the old man that instructing his new student in the ways of the Kame school was going to be a long ordeal. Norimaki Arale was twice as exhausting as Goku ever was; quite a feat in of itself, concerning the boundless energy of the monkey-tailed boy. How the heck was he going to mold this television-raised munchkin into a serious fighter? Turn his training program into a two hour infomercial on Spike TV?

"Brush-a brush-a brush-a...!" Kame-Sen'nin's teeth ground together at the horrific rendition of an old 1950s corporate slogan, and he finally lurched out of bed. "Will you two go to sleep already!" he shouted out at the walls. "We're getting up at 6:00 tomorrow!"

He twisted back into the futon, trying to turn his thoughts to other matters. Such as the sudden impulse to order a few dozen cases of Ipana brand toothpaste before the week was out.

* * *

Author's Notes: Not too much going on right now, but the stage is set for another Dragon Ball/Dr. Slump affair. Although this is a sequel to From Penguin Village with Love, this particular story will be more focused on the Dragon Ball side of things, allowing Arale to screw around with prominent Dragon Ball characters from before the 22nd Tenka'ichi Budokai. Stay tuned: Bulma will be showing up next.

Until next time, Ja ne! ^_^


	2. Tale 2

**Special Education**

**By Reid M. Haynes**

_Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Dr. Slump is the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies, as well as all characters within. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them._

Legend:

( ) Denotes thoughts.

{ } Denotes sound effects.

* * *

**Tale 2: Robot Carnival**

Kame-Sen'nin's rickety old watercraft putted around the shoreline, slowing down as it prepared to dock. The old man parked in the shallow surf, and Goku, Arale, Kuririn, Lunch, and Kame-Sen'nin himself poured out of the crowded boat onto the sandy beaches. The ride over had been a cramped affair for most of the group, and Goku and Arale had gone through every type of horseplay imaginable before they had even reached the halfway point. Kuririn in particular had been jostled around as the duo playfully pinched and flicked each other, and Kame-Sen'nin's thoughts shifted back jealously to Sea Turtle, who certainly was having a more relaxing, if slower trip through the ocean.

It was the big island again, the sleepy home of around a few hundred people, and the site of Goku and Kuririn's previous training. Stretching out for a few kilometers in forests and cottages, big was a relative term, and it had probably had already gotten too small for his two students. Still, the ferocious tigers and sharks should be able to give newcomer Arale a hard time. It was the perfect thing to pound some of that beginner's sass out of her.

"Hoo, good to stretch the old legs a bit," the old man huffed, straightening up in what he hoped was a dignified matter. "Lunch, be a dear and set up the capsule house in the usual spot."

Kame-Sen'nin tossed the Hoi Poi capsule to Lunch, who cheerfully received it open-palm, and started towards the center of the island to set up Kame House. The old man watched her go for a bit, then straightened his sunglasses. "Well now, I think there's time to get in some quick training before lunch." He cleared his throat. "Don't you think so?"

"Go-kun, it jiggles and wiggles!" Arale laughed, poking at a pile of poo with a stick. "Like gelatin!"

"Whoa, it has a face on it," Goku noted, staring at the oblivious joy on the features of the animal droppings.

"I'm talking here!" Kame-Sen'nin hollered, bringing Arale back to attention for a moment. Then, Goku lost his balance and fell face first into the poo pile with a splat, and the girl starting howling with mirth.

"I wonder if we've fulfilled our criteria for bathroom humor this chapter?" Kuririn murmured, easing over to the old man.

"Alright, alright, enough already!" Kame-Sen'nin shook his head a few times, trying to regain control of himself. "Arale, would you please come here for a quick exercise?"

"Okay!" Arale responded easily, strolled over to the old master as Goku wiped the poo off his face with a palm leaf. She waited in front of Kame-Sen'nin, rocking back and forth on her heels like a hyper schoolkid on a field trip.

Kame-Sen'nin sighed, and looked inland at his surroundings on the isle. At the end of the beach, there was a small grassy plain with a single palm tree, a little over one hundred meters away. He smiled at his fortune.

"Okay, we're going to have a little test of your current abilities," he explained to the girl, pointing over to the distant palm. "Two quick sprints, to the tree and back. We'll get to see just what we're working with here."

He rummaged through his pockets for the stopwatch. Once he had his finger on the start button, he turned back to Arale. "Alright Arale, ready, set..." Kame-Sen'nin blinked; the space where Arale had previously occupied was suddenly vacant. "Wha...where'd she go?" he goggled, searching the beach for the four-eyed girl.

"Uh, master?" Kuririn tugged on the old man's shorts, looking out towards the plains.

"Hey Mr. Turtle Man, was I supposed to run now?" Arale called out from the palm tree one hundred meters inland. "Run now? Run later? Huh, huh?"

"Darn it, would you hold still for one second?" Kame-Sen'nin's teeth gnashed in frustration. Huffing and puffing, he jogged across the hundred or so meters that Arale had apparently cleared in less than two seconds.

"Heh heh, still real fast!" Goku smiled, trotting behind him.

"Ho ho, so you've done some running before, eh?" Kame-Sen'nin laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his bald head.

"Uh huh!" a distant cheer emanated from behind him. The old man whirled to the sound of the voice, and discovered that Arale was all the way back at the beach again. Growling under his breath, he rushed on over to the shoreline, with Goku hot on his heels. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

"Heh heh!" Arale gave him a Cheshire Cat grin. "If all your training's this easy, then I don't have much to learn from you!"

"Oh?" Kame-Sen'nin gasped in mock surprise. Then, he swiftly punted Arale into the air like a star quarterback. "Still a bit light on defense, though," he observed.

"HOYOOOooo...!" the girl hooted as she shot into the air like a rocket, disappearing among some of the lower clouds in the stratosphere.

"Wow, up she goes!" Goku gasped, following his girlfriend's flight path. Crouching for a moment to build power, he launched skywards after Arale.

Kame-Sen'nin fell to the ground in a slump, defeat welling up in his heart. He absently plucked up a conch shell from the ground, rolling his finger through its hollow interior. "So much for early morning training," the old man grumbled, putting the shell to his ear. "I supposed she'll be down any moment..."

"Flying lemur attack!" a cry from the heavens rang through Kame-Sen'nin's ears. He looked above to find Arale gliding across the sky in a marsupial costume, bearing down on him like a Zero fighter plane. In her hands was a vast collection of poo piles, ranging from the mini-turds to the mega-dumps.

"Not quite as fast as Kinto'un, but it's okay," Goku added, riding on the girl's back like she was some sort of fantasy beast. "Hey, did ya want to do something with this thing?" he asked, holding another poo pile for her inspection.

Kame-Sen'nin took one more moment to admire the duo's graceful alight before taking off with Kuririn amidst a shower of poo piles. Running at Mach 1, they made good time to Kame House, where Lunch was busy sweeping off the porch. "Oh, Muten-Roshi, I finished setting up the house!" she chimed, coming up to greet them. "Is there anything else you need for me...to...do?" Her speech faltered as she followed the retreating fighters with her slowly widening eyes.

"Add trip lasers in the bathrooms," Kame-Sen'nin tossed behind him, making for the open door. "I want all poo pile occurrences on these premises monitored 24/7."

"Bathroom humor is back with a vengeance, Lunch!" Kurinin cried, slamming the door.

Lunch put a hand to her cheek. "Oh my!"

* * *

"Alright, this should be a simple task even for someone hyper like you." Kame-Sen'nin stared down at Arale, who looked back with apparent understanding. "Milk delivery. A nice bit of exercise and responsibility for the upcoming martial artist."

"Milk, milk, it's good for your heart!" Arale agreed with a nod.

They were at their neighbor's capsule cottage, ready to pick up a fresh load of milk. The bottles sweated with condensation as Kame-Sen'nin retrieved the last case from from the goat man selling them. The sun was blazing high above them, and it wouldn't take very long for them to lose their chill, and their value. The old man trusted that Arale would have enough energy to keep going all the way, but he was sure she'd start to tire towards the last few legs of the delivery route, so he would be sure to keep them going at a brisk pace.

"That's a big load for just that one little girl," the goat man pointed out to the old master. "You sure you don't want to get any extra help for this?"

"My students must be able to stand alone," Kame-Sen'nin boasted with his hands on his hips. "Sister's gotta do it for herself." Goku and Kuririn had been shooed off earlier to do some training of their own while he continued working with Arale. The girl was already proving to be easily distracted, so it would probably do her good to have a little time away from those two.

"Well, that's the last of them," the old man said, turning back to Arale. "Ready to get started, Arale?"

(GUNK GUNK GUNK!) Arale was engaged in Vitamin D renewal, chugging down milk bottles one after another. "Milk milk, it's good for your heart!" she sang, her voice echoing through the inside of the bottle. "The more you drink, the more you blUUUGGGH!" She choked on the suds and shot out streams of milk through her nostrils.

"I thought I told you to carry those!" Kame-Sen'nin roared, getting within a hair's breath of Arale's face. "I already signed a contract to have them delivered!"

"But the chocolate stuff's really good," Goku argued, who had somehow materialized from the side with a bottle of brown milk. "Say, what's chocolate, anyway?"

"What are YOU doing here?" Kame-Sen'nin harangued, starting to feel like he was yelling at a bunch of coconuts. "You're supposed to be training on your own!"

The monkey boy just shrugged. "Arale-chan said milk was good for your bones," he told him, promptly going back to the bottle. "I was kinda thirsty, anyway."

"Muten-Roshi, you idiot!" the goat man hollered, his large maw crumpled up in an unmistakable scowl. "You're paying for every one of those!"

Kame-Sen'nin palmed his face. (I could've been curled up in bed today with a good porno,) he reflected, regretting all the opportunities missed in favor of this continuing farce.

"Hey Arale." Kurirn ran up to the group from the turnip fields, carrying two boxes. "I got the costumes that you wanted from the comic book store. I don't think there's a clear space for the Giant Monsters game you want to play, though."

"Thanks-cha!" Arale received the packages with a smile. "We'll just use the turnip field out back! I'm sure no one will mind, even if all the turnips are ripe."

As Kame-Sen'nin struggled to find words that fit this situation, Arale opened the boxes, pulling out a Godzilla costume and a King Kong costume. "You can be the monkey man," she decided, handing Goku the Kong costume.

"Feels kinda familiar." Goku ran his hands through the faux-fur of the body suit. "Weird."

The girl took one last swig from her milk bottle. "Hey, we're done with the milk now!" she said, tossing the bottle aside to crash into a hundred pieces. "Let's go play!"

And with that, Arale, Goku, and Kuririn took off towards the turnip field for a fantasy romp, leaving behind three gutted cases of milk, more than a dozen empty bottles scattered across the porch and front steps, and the shattered reality of Kame-Sen'nin's fiscal situation.

"That's my turnip field, you know." the goat man said, lurking from behind the old man's back like the unkosher shadow of Death.

* * *

"Eh heh heh heh," Kame-Sen'nin chuckled, inwardly dreading the loss of money soon to come.

("C'mon, Obotchaman-kun! I'll show you something cool!")

("Miss Arale, please slow down! It's only just after breakfast!")

("Kyahaha! Turtle, turtle!")

("If only you would wait for a bit. You have so much energy...!")

Obotchaman woke from his dream with a quaking head, half wishing he was still asleep. Wobbling to his feet, he wiped the sand off his rumpled polo shirt and surgically straightened the bow tie that was the cusp of his debonair apparel. Even in such squalid surroundings, he was a gentleman, and it wouldn't do to present himself in such a condition. As the trusted companion of a princess, it was even less appropriate.

Immediately, he scanned the desert campgrounds for Chi-Chi, his eyes brushing over the charred embers of last night's fire, and the chicken bones from Yamcha and Pu'ar's dinner. As he peered inside the cave where the bandit duo slept, the tomb of his mind flipped through to the recent events in his life. For one thing, he wasn't quite sure how they had come to share their adversaries' hospitality, but in the end, Obotchaman was of a forgiving nature. Only a few grudges were worth having, especially at this stage in his journeys.

It had been a hard couple of weeks for both Obotchaman and Chi-Chi. After Arale and Goku had left, there was little reason for either of them to rot away in Penguin Village or Fry-Pan Mountain. They had a shared experience in the whole ordeal, so a certain understanding had developed between them. It was short order for the two to take a brief sabbatical in each other's company, and together, he supposed they were doing fairly well.

Moving around to the other side of the mountain, the young lad found Chi-Chi leaning against a rock ledge and combing her hair. "Gonna get a husband, do do bap de de!" the girl hummed, stroking her long black tresses with the same care he had shown his bow tie. "He's a mighty man, eee hee!" Her eyes glittered over with newfound hopes and dreams, an expression that suited her.

Obotchaman smiled, happy his friend was coming back to herself. "Salutations, Miss Chi-Chi," he called out, walking into the afternoon sun to announce his presence. "It's another wonderful day in the lovely...er, desert."

Chi-Chi beamed. "Hi, Obotchaman!" she greeted in return, waving at him with her hairbrush. "I was just gonna getcha up." She reached over to a plate sitting beside her. "Help yerself to the dinosaur biscuits I made!" The young princess presented him with the breakfast food, smelling strongly of broiled Tyrannosaurus.

"Much thanks." The boy eagerly took the proffered morsel with a smile. Even though he had traveled with Chi-Chi for only a short while, he found her culinary skill to be exquisite.

"It's gonna be the last meal I make for ya," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I got myself a husband, and now I'm gonna cook for him!"

Obotchaman raised his eyebrow. "That dark haired fellow?" he supposed, scratching his chin. "Is he not a bit scruffy for a Princess?"

"Naw, he's just rough aroun' the edges." Chi-Chi waved him off with a smile. "I'm gonna show him to Dad, and get him to pay for his dental hygiene."

"If you insist." He relented, his eyes trailing off to the side.

The young lady clasped her hands together. "Finally, I'll be able to make use of all the wedding preparation I read about in magazines from drugstores!" she carried on, focusing on the future. "It'll be a big western-style wedding, with all the warrior clans from our side of the family. And you can be the man of honor, when I give you an invitation, that is! It'll be so great!"

Obotchaman sighed wistfully. They had both gone through the loss of their true loves, but as a princess, it was only natural that she would find love again before he would. Still, there was no point in begrudging her good fortune. "I wish you well in your romantic pursuits, Miss Chi-Chi," he told her, conjuring up a smile for her benefit.

She returned his smile, albeit with more sincerity. Then she walked over to him, her dark eyes glimmering over with emotion. "Thanks for takin' care of me, Obotchaman," Chi-Chi said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're a good friend."

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then danced off in rapturous bliss, her black hair fanning out behind her. Obotchaman grazed his cheek where Chi-Chi's lips had briefly touched.

Perhaps, when he had time to reflect, he might be jealous in more ways than one.

While mulling over this, Obotchaman wandered back over to the entrance of the cave, where Yamcha and Pu'ar were likely still sleeping. He figured he might as well give his benefactors a proper farewell before they left with Chi-Chi. As for where he would end up, who knew? Likely wandering alone again, missing both Chi-Chi and Arale greatly.

As he made his way down the stairs to the bandits' den, he came into the middle of a conversation between Yamcha and his loyal squire. "Lord Yamcha, I finished hand-engraving the wedding gift for Lady Chi-Chi," Pu'ar was saying to him with obvious enthusiasm. "Expert craftsmanship!" The cat presented a cheap pendant to him, engraved with the letters Y and CC.

Yamcha's face screwed up in disgust. "Shut up!" he barked, slapping the trinket out of his paws. "I don't care about that!"

Obotchaman's breath caught in his throat at this violent action. He slipped out of sight behind the rock wall, and listened carefully. Something very important was happening here.

"You don't?" Pu'ar continued, furrowing his brow in obvious confusion. "Then what are we hanging around her for?"

"Don't you see, Pu'ar?" The teen spread his arms as if trying to encompass the entire cave. "The Ox King family has some of the most potent magical treasures in the world! If I have an in with their daughter, I'll get access to everything! Then, I can dump her as soon as I get a hold of them!"

"But sir, I thought you didn't care about riches," the cat creature mentioned, looking like he was losing track of the flow of logic.

"Of course not," Yamcha agreed. "But with the mystic power contained within those treasures, I'll able to increase my strength twenty fold. I'll have power the likes of which even the great Muten-Roshi can't contend with. And then I'll finally become a dark, brooding magician-like stud that Bulma will go out with! Bwahahaha!" He cackled like a mad man, throwing his head back and spreading his arms like an eagle's wings.

"I think I miss when you were a spaz that was afraid of girls," Pu'ar deadpanned with a quick roll of his eyes.

Obotchaman with livid, and he dispensed with all subtlety. "So this is the reason you approached Miss Chi-Chi," he rumbled, walking in with the stiff manner of a gentleman barely holding in his temper.

"Lord Yamcha, we've been found out!" Pu'ar squealed, whiskers flaring. "The flirtatious fakeout has been foiled!"

"Sheesh, I forgot about the other kid!" Yamcha chided himself, slamming his hand against the wall.

"Did you not know how that young lady's heart was set upon you?" The boy's voice was raised to almost a full yell. "I will protect Miss Chi-Chi!"

With that, he bolted out with a titanic punch set to pulverize the young bandit. Yamcha sucked in a quick intake of air, then darted off to the side to avoid the attack, which cracked the cave wall where Yamcha's head had previously been. {BRRRAK!} Even as the debris from Obotchaman's earth-shattering attack spread through the air, the boy was on his opponent in the next instant with a spinning kick. The bandit jerked back, leaving the flying foot to embed itself within the rough stone. {SHONK!}

Yamcha grit his teeth, his body taut with tension. "I don't have time for this!" he hissed, one rough tooth poking out from his lips like a fang. His body curved into a sleek, lupine pose, his eyes glinting in the dull light. He tightened his leaden stare on his approaching opponent, and curled his fingers into claws.

As Obotchaman's dashed within range, the bandit intercepted with his specialty move. "ROGAFUFUKEN!" he cried, ravaging the boy's body with a hundred ripping strikes. {SKASH SKASH SKASK!} As Obotchaman teetered from the onslaught, Yamcha delivered an open palm thrust that propelled the boy clear across the cave. {KRAAAK!} His back shattered the wall behind him with a dull crunch, and he slid down to the earthen floor in a heap, his breathing shallow and weak.

Yamcha regarded his fallen foe for a brief moment, then tore towards the cave entrance. "I knew the dark seduction idea was going to be a flop with those junior-high rejects!" he bit out, grinding his teeth together. He peeled Pu'ar off the cave wall, who had been paralyzed since the conflict began. "Pu'ar, new plan!" Yamcha ordered him. "We're going to Fry Pan mountain and looting everything there! Bulma will have her Byronic Hero one way or another!"

"Y-yes sir!" Pu'ur was quick on the uptake, taking position once again as Yamcha's floating familiar.

Obotchaman struggled to his feet, as he heard the desert bandits' hovercraft hissing outside. As he stumbled up the stars to the entrance, he arrived with just enough time to watch futilely as the duo took to the sands, heading further west. They vanished behind the rolling dunes, leaving the boy with only his thoughts, and a explanation to give to Miss Chi-Chi. (What will I tell her?) he wondered, a queasy feeling running throughout his body.

* * *

"Wow, Son-kun, you really did it!" Bulma's good humor came through unabashed, a wry smile tugging the corner of her mouth. "You got yourself a little starter girlfriend, and just your size too!"

"Yup!" Goku smiled, his arm draped across Arale's back affectionately. "She's really neat, and a lot stronger than you are!"

"Hmph!" The turquoise-haired inventor looked wounded, and turned away with a small huff. "We beautiful city girls are a lot more delicate than you rough 'n' tough country bumpkins!"

"Don't we know it!" Kame-Sen'nin slipped up to Bulma with a pasty leer, an action at which Bulma chucked a sharp elbow at.

Bulma had dropped by on her Capsule plane this afternoon to join Goku and company around the table. Her breakup with Yamcha had left her with an abundance of free time, and since she frequently skipped school, there was little reason for her to stay in the city. Together, the group was a oddball coalition of all ages and personality types, but they seemed to get along for the most part. Norimaki Arale remained the wild card, and Kame-Sen'nin and Kuririn waited at the edge of their seats to see how Bulma would react to her.

"Well, well." Bulma took the old master's sexual advances relatively in stride. "Wish I could say I had better things to do than spend time with a dirty old man, but whatever."

"You're the one who broke up with Yamcha a few weeks after you got back together with him," Kurinin pointed out, glaring at her with a certain contempt.

"Hey, is it my fault that he's so completely boring that he makes pen and ink guys look better?" she snapped, bringing up the book wedged between her finger and thumb. "If guys would at least read some of the quality literature out there, they'd know what girls are looking for!"

Kame-Sen'nin's eyes drifted over the front cover. "Ah, 'Twilight,' by Stephanie Meyer." He spoke in a reverent tone. "A fascinating tale of love and sacrifice. Always a top choice."

"You like the part where the 104 year old vampire gets together with the 17 year old girl, don't you." Bulma peered over the top of the book with narrow eyes.

"Hey, an old man is a old man." Kame-Sen'nin shrugged easily, shaking his head. "All us senior citizens need some lovin'."

"At least Edward's skin sparkles!" she snapped at him. "Not like you wormy old toads!"

Kuririn sighed. "I'm kinda sick of this bishonen bad boy talk," he groaned as he reached across the table for a corn muffin, moving aside Bulma's tote bag as he did so. Then, his eye surreptitiously flicked inside the bag's opening, to a short document printed on copy paper and stapled together. Before anyone could stop him, he quickly dove in and snagged the document. "'Love's Flaming Blossom,' an Avatar: The Last Airbender story by capsulegirl164," he read out loud, incredulous. "Jeez, Bulma, you write Zutara fanfiction too?"

"Give me that!" she growled, her hand clawing for the papers. "It hasn't been proofread yet!"

"Let's see if it's even worth proofreading first," Kuririn said, his eyes coasting the fanfic for a random passage even as he pushed Bulma away.

* * *

"Oh Zuko," Katara moaned as she melted against the side of her Fire Nation prince. "I'm so ready to become your Fire Lady."

"You're the only fire in my heart, my feisty Water Tribe peasant." The handsome young man's words rolled off his tongue like a torch song, inciting and igniting the embers of her own heart.

The lovely young lady sighed in rapturous bliss, as the two continued down the gangplank to Zuko's war ship. Then, Katara nearly toppled over as she felt a soft, porous substance give way under her foot. "Eww, gross!" she said, observing the yellow/orange gunk on her shoe. "I think I just stepped in Airbender!"

* * *

"You fangirls are all alike!" Kuririn slammed the fanfic to the table in disgust. "Pounding out your bad boy fantasies, and leaving us with the dregs! I'll tell you, Zuko's a complete rube! A shmoe, a dolt!"

"Oh, like she's really going to end up with Aang," Bulma spat, snatching back her story to rout its further criticism. "That little shrimp!"

"Damn right!" Kuririn's eyes flashed with righteous fury. "Aang is an inspiration to all us short, bald-headed monks looking for girlfriends! We may not be as muscley as a Fire Nation prince, but we give as good as we get!" He rose from his seat, and struck a pose derivative of old martial arts flicks. "Airbending strike!"

"Hoyo-yo..." Arale blinked in confusion. "They're funny."

"What's the big deal, anyway?" Goku wondered, looking at Arale. "Aren't you supposed to just find a girl you like, and kiss her?"

He did just that, with Arale giggling as she accepted the kiss.

"Yeesh, little brats kissing." Bulma made a face. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"That's the Kataang way!" Kuririn cheered on his friend with gusto.

"Hey, Go-kun said you were a scientist like Hakase!" Arale separated from Goku and turned to Bulma. "Like you make zap zap laser guns and stuff?"

"Huh?" Bulma blinked, momentarily distracted from her anger. "Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"This." The smaller girl brought her hands to her neck. With a small 'oomph', she pulled her head straight off her shoulders and held it aloft for all to see.

Bulma's eyes grew ten inches in diameter.

"See, I used to be able to make my spin around, but Hakase made it so I could only turn around like a human because I was making everyone sick," she explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "But going spin-spin-spin was a lot of fun, so maybe you can fix it so I can do it again."

"What the hell!" Bulma screamed at the top of her lungs. "You're a robot!"

"Whoa!" Kuririn reared back in his seat, astonished. "It's sci-fi night at Orin Temple all over again!"

"Very interesting," Kame-Sen'nin mused, raising his eyebrow. "A robot girlfriend. I'll have to let you borrow my Chobits collection sometime, Goku."

"What wrong with robots?" Goku asked Bulma, chucking Arale's head under his arm like it was a basketball. "Hatchan's a robot, and he's pretty cool. He kinda thinks like we do, anyway. Don't you build robots, Bulma?"

"What?" The inventor reared back at his insinuations. "I am NOT having an argument about consciousness with you, Son Goku!"

"But what about that story with the girl that had the yellow ribbon tied around her neck?" Arale's disembodied head insisted from its position under Goku's arm. "Her head fell off, but she still got married."

"That was a horror story!" Bulma screamed, clutching her own neck as if, it too, had been severed. "It gave me nightmares all through first grade!"

Bulma rose from her seat like a ramrod. "I've had about all I take of this!" she wailed, quickly stuffing her fanfic back into her bag. "I should've known that you all were a bunch of robot loving, Kataang writing, headless horseman from the very beginning!" She stormed out the door, slamming it hard enough to shake the frame of the house. "Good riddance!"

A few moments later, they heard the telltale hum of an engine warming up. The group could see Bulma's capsule plane rising up from its position on the beach, and then jetting off towards the west in a streak of smoke.

"What a prude," Kame-Sen'nin commented, taking a sip of his beer.

* * *

"But...but why, Obotchaman?" Chi-Chi's voice was weakening, as she slumped down on the edge of the mountain. "I...I thought he loved me. That was what he said, right? Didn't he said that, Obotchaman?"

"I apologize." The boy's expression grew sober, as he knelt down to look his friend in the eye. "I wouldn't tell you this if it were any other way."

She didn't meet his gaze. "I was going to make 'em a new scarf." Chi-Chi started trembling, her lips curling downwards. "His other one was gettin' kinda scrungy."

Obotchaman lowered his head, feeling her shame at if it were his own.

The young princess was not taking this well at all. Understandable, even without considering Son Goku, but since she was fresh from that sobering experience, it hit that much harder. As her body rocked in grief, Obotchaman felt his heart drop into his stomach. It was the worst possible thing that could've happened right now.

Chi-Chi held the little locket, the one Pu'ar made in honor of her union with Yamcha. "I shouda known it was too good t' be true," she muttered, tears starting to form at the corner of her eyes. "I lost Goku to that otha' girl, and Yamcha doesn't like me either. I'm jes a boring gal that can't keep a man to save her life."

Obotchaman's own eyes were hardened, piercing through his spectacles. "I'm still here, Miss Chi-Chi," he said, taking her by the shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Obotchaman..." She looked up, imploring him with her twinkling stare.

"We must pick ourselves up again." The boy smiled grimly, as serious as he ever got. "As many times as it takes."

Chi-Chi wiped her eyes, sniffling. "Yer right," she nodded, regaining some strength in her voice. "I won't let that meanie keep me down."

She looked down upon the locket again, still clasped in her hand. With a single clench of her fist, she crunched it to bits, the dull pewter toppling through her fingers. "We'll teach those hooligans to mess with a girl's tender heart!" she declared, turning to Obotchaman with new vigor. "Let's go, Obotchaman!"

"Miss Chi-Chi!" Surprised by her sudden burst of energy, Obotchaman backed up a few steps. "Yamcha has already escaped us! Where are we going? What are we doing?"

Her voice lowered to a lion's snarl. "We're gonna prepare fer war."

* * *

That evening, the group had congregated outside Kame House for a short demonstration. The orange sun beamed through the humid haze and reflected on each grass blade, giving the island the appearance of a hot furnace. Lunch and Sea Turtle had returned from their shopping rounds, a bag of groceries by their side...along with a collection of jewels and valuables. They joined Goku and Kuririn in shielding their eyes as they watched Kame-Sen'nin lay the next lesson on Arale.

"Oooh, it feels so good to relax after a day in town!" Lunch remarked, settling down on Sea Turtle's shell.

"A regular cornucopia of activity," Sea Turtle drolled, spitting out a mouthful of empty machine gun shell that had fallen in during their latest narrow escape.

"Alright, now that we know Arale is nuts and bolts, we're going to try a little experiment," the old man began, standing in front of Arale. "First a quick review on Chi."

"Ugh, I hate lectures," Goku groaned by Kuririn's side, and entertained himself with the stick of poo Arale have given him.

Kame-Sen'nin raised an eyebrow at the monkey boy's activities, but quickly got back to task. "As I've told you, Chi is the energizing drive of all things living," he said. "It allows the skilled martial artist to evoke power far beyond that of muscle and bone. Chi may not work for androids, but if you're enough like a human, you should be able to emulate it."

The Turtle Hermit crumpled into an nigh-insectoid stance. "Obverse: a quick blast," he declared, cupping his hands behind his back.

He waited for one moment to gather the nessesary energies. "KAMEHAMEMA!" he called out, thrusting his palms outward and releasing a blue/white energy beam screaming across the island and over the sea. {FWOOOOOOSH!}

"COOOOOL!" Arale squealed, watching the blazing bolt twinkle beyond the horizon. She turned to Goku with a smile, who grinned back and gave her a thumbs up.

With a quiet bravado, the wily old crone maneuvered to Arale's side, leaving her a clear view of the ocean. "See if you can master the cold, rising wave," Kame-Sen'nin challenged her with a stiff smirk.

Arale cheerfully clomped over to where he had stood, giggling quietly to herself. She crouched in a remarkable facsimile of the old master's stance, cupping her hands just as he had done. Her face was squelched up in concentration, with artificial muscles and piston pumps gyrating under synthetic skin. And an ominous power began the crow within the space between her fingers.

Arale was shaking with the intense energies, barely holding it all in. "KAMEHAMEHA!" she shouted, pushing her hands forward just as Kame-Sen'nin had done.

{FRRRRT!}

A noxious fume poured from the girl's hands and spread through the wind. The distinct odor of methane filled the air, wafting over to Goku, Kuririn, Lunch, and Sea Turtle, who were staring blankly at the scene opening up before them.

"...It's a fart," Kuririn affirmed, almost to himself.

"So stinky!" Lunch politely waved away the stench with her hand.

"KYAHAHA!" Arale was bowled over, laughing so hard that she was nearly in tears. The girl wobbled back and forth on the grass like a cradle, clutching her stomach tight. "So funny!" Pressing her hands together in the same position, she released another Kamehamefart. {PHOOOT!} "NYAHAHAHAHA!" Her laughter increased two-fold, as she gasped desperately for air.

Kame-Sen'nin slapped himself on the face for what felt like the eleventh time that day. "Feh, so much for that theory," he snorted, chalking down yet another failure.

"That's okay!" Arale consoled him cheerfully, a trace of laughter echoing in her voice. "I can show you a better trick!" She turned a bit to the right, taking in a large breathful.

"N'CHAAAAA!" she screamed, and {KWOOOOON!} a wave of power similar to the Kamehameha poured from her mouth and shot towards the center of the island.

Right at Kame House.

The beam pierced through the wooden frame and support structure as if they were matchsticks. Everything within the path of the fiery emission was immediately melted into ash, getting lost among the intense heat of plasma energy. As it passed on through, it left a skeletal phantom of wood, metal, and aluminum siding that was barely holding up. This, too, felt apart, the various warped remains collapsing into each other like a card house.

Kame-Sen'nin could have cried as his beloved home went to that big Capsule Corporation up in the sky. Everything gone, just like that.

The old master loomed over Arale with murder in his eyes. "You juvenile delinquent!" he blasted out, causing the girl's hair to fly back. "That was everything I owned! The few important things I managed to accumulate in my lifetime! Years and years of collecting porn, all wasted!"

"Hoyo?" Arale burbled.

"You have been nothing but a disaster this entire week!" he continued to holler. "You're completely undisciplined, scatterbrained, and careless! You're spastic, and a bad influence on my students. I mean, look at what Goku's becoming now!"

"Hoyo?" Goku chirped, lowering his poo pile to his side.

Kame-Sen'nin turned his back on Arale with an air of finality. "You are expelled from the Kame school," he told her harshly. "Good day to you, Norimaki Arale." With that, the old man walked off towards the broken Kame House, to rebuild his shattered existence from square one.

The silence left in his wake felt deafening, and no one dared speak into the vacuum. Even Arale was at a lost for words, looking at the ground with an unreadable expression on her face.

"Aa-choo!" The group whirled around to find Lunch standing behind them, whose fluffy blue hair had transmogrified into a starlet's blond mane, and whose eyes has narrowed into a thug's unrepentant glare. "Where the hell've I been this fanfic?" she growled, looking to the left and right before setting her wrathful stare on Arale. "What, has this been freakin' amateur hour the whole time?"

"Whoopsy," Arale squeaked, averting her eyes.

* * *

Author's Notes: This chapter became my sounding board for a lot of my ideas about popular trends in fandom. Bulma's romantic sensibilities aren't too disimiliar from bad boy fiction, whether she's fawning over Yamcha, General Blue, Zarbon, or Vegeta. There's more action ahead, and Goku finally comes to the forefront. Maybe we'll even stop dumping on Yamcha for a split second. (guy never gets a break, does he?)

Until next time, Ja ne! ^_^


	3. Tale 3

**Special Education**

**By Reid M. Haynes**

_Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Dr. Slump is the property of Akira Toriyama, TOEI ANIMATION, and various other companies, as well as all characters within. I am using them without permission, and I am making no money off of them._

Legend:

( ) Denotes thoughts.

{ } Denotes sound effects.

* * *

**Tale 3: Lemmings Can Learn**

* * *

"Train me!"

"No." Kame-Sen'nin closed the lid on the garbage pail, covering up the refuse-laden Arale.

* * *

"Train me!"

"No!" Kame-Sen'nin flushed the 4-liter public commode, sucking Arale down the drain.

* * *

"Train me!"

"NO!" Kame-Sen'nin kicked the birthday package down the hill, causing Arale to squeal in protest.

* * *

The water of the hot spring boiled with enough heat to scald all but the most conditioned body. Steam rose into the cool night air and became illuminated with the tranquil beams of starlight. A dozen palm trees hung in position around the spring, their lofty leaves providing seclusion from the world's worries and concerns. The old man soaking within the spring sighed, his exhaustion disappearing into the billowing mist, bliss within bliss.

Kame-Sen'nin had dug out the spring late last evening, powering it with a few simple Chi transferal techniques he had picked up in his youthful travels. It was far enough from Kame House to not remind him of its destruction; the old man's wrinkly physique would ensure he would have get no surprise visitors, either. He bat the water about with a flip of his hand, sending it splashing away in short waves. Watching the gentle ripples spreading out in their kaleidoscope patterns somehow soothed him, allowing him to think more clearly about recent events.

(What a wash out.) The tired martial artist reflected upon his ex-student with a frown, feeling more disappointed than angry. He had prepared a whole slew of unorthodox, Karate Kid-style exercises for Arale, to forge the girl's mind subconsciously rather than consciously. But somehow, everything was a game to her, without rules or regulations or time-outs. It was impossible to get her to settle down enough to teach her anything.

(Maybe she's just can't learn in the traditional Turtle School way,) he wondered, reaching over to the fondue pot he had set up at the side of the spring. (I wonder who might be able to embed a sophisticated martial art into that head case...)

"Train me!" a burning Arale head requested from inside the pot, her split ends sizzling with an oil fire.

Kame-Sen'nin sighed, fitting the lid back over the pot to hide the head from view. (Some other guy's problem now,) he decided, folding his arms back behind his head. (Now finding the "Can Can Bunny" box set again at a good price: that's a problem!)

* * *

"Golly, Arale-chan's stronger than I thought," Goku commented, picking up a mangled piece of a chair that might as well have been driftwood. "It's still smoking!"

"No duh." Kuririn kept his attention on the torn up television, poking at it with a stick as if it would somehow start showing Mobile Suit Gundam again. "It's a radioactive zone around here. Your girlfriend's a spark plug. Since she's a robot, that one's literal."

The other members of the Kame family were out among the ruins of Kame House, digging around for anything salvageable, and having virtually no luck. Sleep had not come easily to them last night; their current activities were more due to insomnia than anything else. Lunch was desperately trying to keep from choking on the fumes as she rummaged though some warped silverware, causing Kuririn to keep his distance in case of a sneeze. Goku was too distracted to care, his mind bouncing around the events leading to yesterday's calamity with all the randomness of a pachinko ball.

"Say, where'd she go, anyway?" Goku asked of the group, looking around for the missing robot. "Doesn't she wanna see how badly she blew the house up?"

"She took off with Sea Turtle just a little while ago," Lunch answered him, looking back behind the curls of her hair. "Something about buying a cello."

"Better go find her," he said, taking off towards the shoreline.

"Go to it, lover boy," Kuririn's droned, waving at him lazily.

Goku skittered around the island perimeter like a beetle, his heels kicking up a modest dust storm behind him. He scanned the scrolling landscape for any sign of his girlfriend, the palm trees moving quickly around him as to resemble an automobile ride. It wasn't normally easy to miss someone like Arale, but the girl was being surprisingly inconspicuous this morning. Maybe she wasn't feeling any better than the rest of them.

The monkey boy's keen, animal sense of hearing picked up a distinct screeching from the eastern shore. He stopped for a brief moment and turned towards the sound, shielding his eyes from the rising sun. Spying a pair of familiar figures silhouetted in the dawn's early light, he dashed on over to the surf for a brief meeting with his friends. As he drew closer to his destination, he slowed to a jog, trying to keep his breath even as a sort of impromptu training exercise.

On the beach, Arale and Sea Turtle shone in the red/orange rays of the sun as if they were part of a painting. Sea Turtle was playing sad, cello music with an expert hand, his eyes shut and his expression placid. Arale stared at the twinkling ocean, her pupils reflecting a thousand lost hopes and dreams. Mindlessly, she fiddled with her poo stick, showing no hint of the simple joy that animal droppings usually brought.

Goku approached the duo. "Hey, Arale-chan, where'ya been?" he asked with his usual impeccable timeliness. "You weren't here when we woke up."

"Truly, it has been a rough night for Lady Arale." Sea Turtle slowly eased the bow over the strings in a particularly melancholy measure. "I've gone through all of Beethoven's favorites, and some of Mozart's early works."

Goku sat down beside Arale; she didn't acknowledge his presence. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, thrown off by the disquiet in her normally jovial spirit.

The girl smiled into empty space. "I guess I got fired, huh," she stated, kicking out at the waves lapping her toes.

"Well, you did kinda destroy our house," he mentioned. "The old timer was really mad, you know."

"Am I gonna hafta go home, Go-kun?" she asked him. "I was havin' fun before yesterday."

"Nah, you're my girlfriend." He shook his head, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "We gotta stick together, right?"

She gave him a real smile this time, shaking her head "yes."

The two sat comfortably together, their hair wafting with a light breeze. "Hey, Go-kun, why d'ya train so hard?" she wondered, turning to him with a flip of her hair. "Isn't it more fun to just play all the time?"

"Are you kiddin'?" Goku looked at her as if she was crazy. "Gettin' tough's the best thing there is! Also, my Grandpa always wanted me to be a great martial artist. I gotta get real strong so he'll be proud."

Goku's gaze grew distant, and he sifted through his memories as if panning for gold. "When I'm strong, I feel like I'm ready for anything," he said, a bright smile illuminating the dawn. "That means I can have all sorts of fun, without worryin' about bad stuff happenin' to me. I hafta work hard sometimes, but it's worth it to have more adventures. I'm making the most of every minute, 'specially since you're here with me."

Arale seemed to bat this around for a moment. "That's what I want, too!" she finally cheered. "I want to get real strong, so I can play at your level!"

Goku grinned, nodding in agreement. Then he got up from the sands, turning to face her. "C'mon, I'm gonna train ya," he told her, offering his hand. "Since the old timer won't, I mean."

"Hoyo?" Arale's eyes widened, but she took his hand despite her confusion. "Where're we going, Go-kun?"

"I'm gonna show you what Grandpa showed me," he replied, leading her away from the beach. "We'll do it Mount Paozu style!"

* * *

The sun had arrived at the 9 o'clock position, with the promise of new life shining in its tangerine glow. Goku, Arale, Kuririn, Lunch, and Sea Turtle were gathered in a grassy clearing on the far side of the island, giving them a little distance from the old master, who was still licking his wounds. Goku stood before Arale, splendid in his orange gi, and ready to lay down the law of martial arts. Arale, dressed in the blue gi her Sensei Midori had made for her, portrayed wide-eyed reception for the boy's next instructions.

"Arale-chan, every attack has a natural counter, and every defense a natural weakness," Goku told her, recalling early lessons by the late Son Gohan. "By attacking, you open yourself up to other attacks. And if you block wrong, the bad guys can getcha that way, too. Try to hit me with a punch, and I'll show ya."

"'Kay." Arale shrugged, rushing up and going for a short face jab. {SFFT!}

Goku's eyes twitched for a brief second, and then he quickly moved to intercept the blow. "Jan-Ken Paper!" he cried, palming Arale's fist and rendering her attack impotent. While she was still immobile, he sent a hard right straight for the girl's jaw. "Rock!" Goku's fist made contact, crashing into her jaw and sending her flat on her back among the grass blades.

"Paper covers rock, rock crushes scissors, scissors cuts paper," he explained to the prone Arale-chan. "Jan-ken Punch is the basis of all martial arts. You gotta pick the right attack at the right time, or else they're gonna win!"

"And it's good for fighting games, too," Kuririn commented as an aside, chewing on a muffin Lunch had picked up at a neighborhood grocery.

"Neato!" Arale propped herself up on her elbows, grinning up at him. "It's just like playing with Suppaman!"

"Now it's your turn." Goku put his hands on his hips. "Show me whatcha got!"

Arale ran at Goku, doing her best to mimic what she had seen. Her hand formed a scissors-type attack as she thrust at his eyes. Goku only smiled, and prepared to counter with a rock-type attack. The game began once more.

* * *

"Now it's time for weapon training!" Goku continued with the next part of his program, making a tapping motion with his finger. "A good fighter's gotta know how to use the stuff he's got. You can use sharp things, hard things, even soft things against your opponent. Anything you can find, you can use to really mess 'em up!"

The high noon sun sparkled on the rose-hued Nyoibo staff as Goku drew it from its sheath. With his other hand, he tossed Arale a length of bamboo, who received it with a blank expression on her face. As Arale fiddled with the implement, Goku magically stretched his staff so that it resembled a bo, and walked within Arale's outer ring of defense. He took a stance.

"Ready?" he challenged, waving the tip of Nyoibo in a brazen come-on.

"Yup!" Arale answered, pumping her staff like a lever.

Goku turned to Kuririn, and gave him a wink. The young monk nodded, and pulled his stopwatch up to bear. "...Alright, go!" he shouted, as the seconds began to count up.

Arale ran forward and swung her bamboo staff in a wide arc aimed at Goku's head. {KLACK!} Goku raised Nyoibo into the weapon's path, and span the weapon in a deceptive pattern that ended in a jab at the girl's midsection. {FOON! FOON! FOON!} Arale barely managed to tuck away from the attack, scrambling to execute a few more swings and force Goku back onto his guard. {KLOK! KLOK! KLOK!} She managed this with a measure of success, although Goku's parries were carefully carried out without sweat.

[KLACK KLOK KLACK!} The stick fighters clashed again and again, their weapons a crisscrossing pair of solid snakes toppling over each other for dominance. Arale's eyes jerked back and forth as she struggled to keep track of the Nyoibo's red shine. Goku, for his part, maneuvered his weapon in twisting patterns impossible for all but a master of bojutsu. Still, both of the combatants were going strong, with Arale doing a good turn at keeping up with the monkey boy.

"HOIII!" Arale roared as means of a battle cry, swinging at an opening created by the lengthy follow-through of Goku's last strike. That was just a feint, however, as the boy was using his momentum to swing into a kick that caught Arale in the gut. {BOOSH!} As Arale crumpled from the hard blow, he slammed her on the head with his Nyoibo. {BWONK!} Then, he soundly whacked her two more times, ensuring Arale had a dirtnap date before he called it quits.

"...time!" Kuririn called out, clicking the stopwatch. "Man, you got creamed that round, Arale!"

"Cheez, Arale-chan!" Goku complained, standing above her like a religious deacon. "Doncha know I can hitcha other ways, too?"

"You suck, Son Go-kun." Arale coughed, spitting out a mouthful of soil.

Arale slowly got back to her feet, brushing off her gi. She shot a challenging look at her boyfriend, her body pumping with the robotic substitute for adrenaline. The boy was smirking, his eyebrows cocked low, his pupils twinkling with mirth. "What're you waitin' for?" he taunted. "Come 'n get me!"

A devil-may-care smile was slung on Arale's face, and she hastened towards Goku, with a hard bamboo staff for his arrogance. Kuririn sighed, and clicked the stopwatch to begin the next round.

And in the bushes, just out of sight, an old master watched behind dark sunglasses. "Hmm, a more direct curriculum, instead of subliminal training," Kame-Sen'nin purred, gathering his beard into his fingers. "Interesting..."

* * *

Arale twisted open the top of her bottle, observing her Robobitan A energy drink. She dumped the rest of its contents into her mouth, about half a cup's worth, taking it down in one gulp. Tossing the bottle into the grass, she wiped her brow, heaving a bit with efforts exerted. As the sun rolled its way to the horizon, she faced Goku and Kuririn again, who stood side by side like centurions.

"Multi-man combat, Arale-chan!" Goku beamed at the girl, as if he were discussing a new thrill ride at the West City amusement park. "Me and Kuririn are gonna jump ya, so see if you can fight us off." He motioned to his partner, then continued. "Only tournaments have man-to-man combat. Every thing else is a big ol' brawl."

"We've trained together for seven months, so we're really in synch," Kuririn added, adjusting his wrist guards. "It's gonna be tough for you, Arale!"

"That's okay!" Arale smiled. "Your bald head's round, so it'll fly far when I kick it!"

"Whoo..." Kuririn breathed, scandalized by the remark. "Still spicy."

Goku and Kuririn locked eyes for a moment, then nodded at each other. Then, they blitzed Arale, their fists prepped for destruction. "HAAAII!" the two yelled in unison, honing on the girl like a hornet swarm. Arale locked her jaw and got into a fighting stance, ready to receive the fire of Olympus.

Kuririn came first, throwing himself into a body blow. {FWOK!} Arale brought her knee up to ward off the attack, and launched a round of front kicks that forced him back just as Goku moved in from the rear. Arale span about to deflect Goku's kick, as her other hand tended to the threat presented by Kuririn's continuous punch attack. Soon, the girl was being assaulted on all sides, the boys spiraled around her, ready to exploit any opening.

{BWAK BWAK BWAK!} Arale's hands moved like pistons in order to knock away the attacks of her aggressors. No quarter was given; the Kame school graduates kept on her with the same fervor shown to their Tenkai'chi Budokai competitors. And yet, the android had a good sense about the flow of combat. Never once did she lose track of Goku or Kuririn, when one was advancing or retreating, when they attacked as a pair, or moved independently.

{SHWAAA!} Arale rose up in a wide somersault kick, and Kuririn stumbled back, momentarily losing his balance. The girl then coverted her energies into a dive-bombing strike that took the young monk down, bringing his head hard against the turf. {DMMM!} Not missing a beat, she whirled back to Goku, who was approaching in a zigzagging pattern in order to confuse her. With Kuririn out of the fight for the moment, it was now a one-on-one match between Arale and Goku, their hands batting against each other in a dangerous tango.

{SHAKK SHAKK SHAKK!} Arale's fingers burned with friction as she deflected her opponent's strikes, picking them off like they were annoying insects. Goku, too, was on fire, doing his darndest to keep her from scoring a hit, with the odd kick or two skimming dangerously close to his person. They grappled for a bit, keeping their hands tight on the other's forearms as they battled for supremacy. Then, they broke apart so that a meter of space was separating them, ending the scuffle momentarily.

Arale and Goku poured a molten lava gaze between the two of them, the tension bubbling through the air. Kurinin had gotten upright again, grabbing his stomach. Goku continuing to stare the girl down, as if passing judgment. Then, he gave her an "ok" sign with his finger and thumb, winking. "That's good!"

Arale's million-dollar smile could have broken the bank. She jumped into the air, threw up a fist, and shrieked in celebration. "Yeah!"

* * *

The day's training was done, and yet the three junior fighters had only just gotten started. Many times the sun rose and set over the island as Arale sparred with Goku and Kuririn, the two going through every aspect of their early training with her. As Rocky-esque music played in the background, she cheerfully worked her servos off morning till night, with Goku's enthusiastic attitude spurring her on. Her electronic brain created new connections, her mind broadening and expanding like every martial artist before her.

* * *

On a brisk summer night a few weeks later, Arale was sprawled on the grass catching up on some much needed robotic R.E.M., her arms splayed out in an undignified pose. Goku and Kuririn were beside her in similar posture, drowning in their exhaustion. Still, the group was resting happily together with the long day behind them. They were unaware of the shadow that stalked the darkness, easing up on them like a black panther.

Arale's face scrunched up as she felt a soft bundle land on the ground beside her. Wobbling to a sitting position, she took off her glasses and wiped the corners of her eyes free of the grime that had accumulated there. The android gal turned lazily to the disturbance, just missing the dark stranger at it shifted into the thicket. She didn't, however, miss the pile of clothes laid out for her beside her empty bottle of Robobitan A, practically gleaning within her irises.

It was an orange martial arts gi, glowing as if it were fresh off the needle. Exactly the same as the ones Goku and Kuririn wore, it came complete with a blue cloth belt and a pair of kung fu shoes. The Kame symbol was stitched on the left side of the vest, as well as on the back. The uniform was sewn with competent hands, and was just the right size for Arale to wear.

Arale stared wide-eyed at the strange gift, wondering what mysterious benefactor could have provided this for her. Then, she spied a note laid on top of the folded clothes. She picked it up, reading it outloud. "Arale, come to the thicket at midnight," she recited to herself. "'Kay."

A brief moment later, she had changed into the gi, putting up her hair in twin, floppy ponytails. Without Goku or Kuririn, she had proceeded to the rendezvous point, a shady thicket deep within the jungles of the big island. The nightlife was abound with the rumbling of predators; hungry tigers just waiting for a bite of easy meat. She paid them no mind; tigers usually ended up as good pets if you played with them a little.

Arale waited impatiently in the middle of the scenic splendor, her eyes dawdling about the brambles and shrubs. The overhanging branches blocked out the starlight, cloaking everything in a lonely murkiness. The berry bushes and flowers offset the darkness, giving it a picturesque Alice in Wonderland feel, and keeping it from dampening the mood. Boredom tended to set in when she was around glum surroundings.

A shuffling sound emanated from Arale's right, and she turned around. A pair of bony hands were parting the tall grass, a figure stepping into the girl's sight with a subverted strength about it. It was a bearded old codger wearing a Chinese kung fu suit, with a tall order of hair crowning his head, and an easygoing expression in his droopy eyes. He came into full view with a practiced manner about him, as if his every step were part of a perfectly choreographed routine.

"Ah, what a wonderful night to be alive," he sighed, looking about the thicket like every berry on the bushes was a wonder. "Cool and refreshing, like a light rain shower, or at least a can of soda pop. A perfect night...for a challenge." He stared straight through Arale, as if reading the intentions in her silicon soul.

"Are you the guy who wrote that note?" she inquired. "You're kind of a old geezer."

Shadows crept across the man's features like a high tide, his eyes diamonds in the rough. "My dear child, I am Jackie Chun." He introduced himself with an eloquent bow. "Master of the martial arts. I appear anywhere there's a promising young fighter on the road to the top. And you, young Arale, are it."

Arale leaned in for a closer look. "Oh, it's Kame-Sen'nin!" she realized, brightening up. "N'cha!"

The old man sweated at this accusation. "I'm quite sure you're mistaken," he stammered, running a hand through his thick hair. "People often say I resemble the Invincible Old Master, though in the end, I am only Jackie Chun."

"But you just took off your glasses and added a wig!" she insisted, pointing out at him. "That's pretty dumb for a disguise."

"Ah well, that is..." Jackie's distinguished demeanor vanished in a frustrated fit. "Look, just go along with this, will ya?" he snapped, a vein popping up on his temple. "It's 200 zeni for the super-glue I have pasted on my skull, so I'm gonna get the most out of my Mysterious Stranger schtick!"

"Okay." Arale shrugged, her demeanor unaffected by his outburst. "But if I beat you, that means that I'm a good martial artist, right?"

"That would be the short version." He nodded, huffing a bit into the crisp air. "But I hardly expect you to get that far when battling me. Think of this as another crash course in the sweet science of fisticuffs. I just want to see how you fare in the grand scheme of things. Nothing more."

"So what are we still talking for?" Arale curled up into a fighting stance, the hard smile on her face resembling Son Goku's. "Let's play!"

Jackie's lips twitched up behind his beard. "Enthusiasm," he commented, shifting into a similiar stance. "Always liked that in the youth."

The two fighters looked down the expanse of grass divided them like it was a fissure in the land. Arale's hair flared behind her a curious nighttime gale, alive in a violet flurry of tied-up fire. Jackie Chun stood motionless, calmly sizing her up and offering no openings. A cloud of flower petals tossed about on the breeze between them, a serene distraction from the upcoming melee.

Then, Arale tore down the distance between her and Jackie, the flowers rippling around her. Her teeth were set in a death grin as she prepared a titanic punch for his immediate displeasure.

He smiled, coolly deflecting the blow. The game was afoot.

* * *

The summit of Fry-Pan Mountain was crowned with a halo of stormy, black, circling clouds that spat out forks of lightning indiscriminately. Crows and jays cut through under the haze as a escort to any damned soul that dared enter this devil's dwelling. The once blazing volcanic mound was now cold as a tomb, supporting no more life than the most desolate desert tundra. It was fitting surroundings for the new dark lord and anyone unfortunate as to incur his wrath.

In the vacant hollows of the castle ruins, perched on the cow bone throne once occupied by Gyu-Mao, was Yamcha, dressed like a cross between Lucifer and Aoshi Shinomori. "Look, my loyal minion, at the darkness I've unleashed upon the land!" he declared, stroking the black tomb cradled in his hands. "The dark book tells all, the past, the future, my new destiny as ruler of this land."

"Sir, this is getting as bad as those Bulma/Vegeta fanfics." Pu'ar tried to reason with him, even as he was dressed up as a Dragon Quest Drakee. "It's tough calling you 'Lord Yamcha' when you're taking it so literally."

"Silence Pu'ar!" Yamcha boomed, his voice taking on a bass rumble. "I'm the arrogant, brooding prince now! Just watch me practice my cold, unfeeling gaze!" He shot a slitty stare into the distance, sure to melt the heart of any starry-eyed teenage girl.

The long suffering servant bemoaned his fate. "Isn't there already a dozen parodies about this sort of thing?" he wondered to himself quietly.

This off-hand comment passed by Yamcha. "Now that I've achieved ultimate mastery of the dark arts, it's time to seek out my queen." With a grand sweep of his arm, Yamcha motioned to the horizon. "I think a trip to West City is in order!"

The cat took a moment to consider this. "...You know, I was going to argue with you," he admitted. "But no, I think she would probably go for something like this."

"You know she would!" he agreed, snapping his finger in a decidedly un-Byronic gesture. "And nobody's going to get in my way this time!"

"Wrong!" a piercing cry broke through the darkness. The nerves in Yamcha's face tightened, and he looked to either side before finally focusing ahead of him, finding the source of the disturbance approaching from outside.

A pair of cloaked figures emerged from the castle entrance, running at a steady gait. They approached the throne with no reverence for the majesty of the faux dark lord. The hoods cloaked their faces in darkness, but none the less revealed the faces of Chi-Chi and Obotchaman, their white eyes shining with anger. Together, they looked like two little devils themselves.

Yamcha was nonplussed. "The brat pack again?" he groaned, grimacing at the duo. "What did I do to deserve this?"

Obotchaman was about to speak up, but Chi-Chi beat him to the punch, ready to tell Yamcha exactly what he did to deserve this. "Yamcha, you lyin', stinkin', piece of cow poo!" she hollered, pushing her friend to the side and nearly bowling him over. "You led me around like a horse at a rodeo! You bamboozled me like a senile old grandma! You scammed me like a junk mail sweepstakes!"

"Mister Yamcha, cease these actions and return this land and its treasures to Miss Chi-Chi," Obotchaman ordered in a brisk tone. "They are not yours, and you have no right to them."

"Right?" Yamcha almost guffawed. "Right? What does 'right' mean to someone who's been passed up for some scowling piece of fluff over and over again? The only 'right' is to take what you want by force, and now that scowling piece of fluff is me!"

"Yes, with this book, I have all the answers," he declared, holding up his prize. "The most precious item in Gyu-Mao's collection, from the legendary enchantress herself!"

Obotchaman straightened his spectacles, making sure he was seeing properly. "An autographed copy of Twilight?" he asked, in awe at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

"I got it from a mall signing." Chi-Chi sighed, not without a touch of embarrassment.

"Only Stephanie Meyer's magnum opus can teach a man how to be suave!" Yamcha asserted, rising from his throne. "And with its help, I have become the ultimate sparkling vampire!"

With that, he spread his cloak wide, revealing a bare chest practically bursting from his open shirt, and an array of bright sparkles on his skin. Everywhere his flesh showed, they was a dash of shimmering gleam, as if he had taken a dive in a glitter factory while coated with glue. He looked like a human disco ball, reflecting the weak light of this cursed domain in all directions. And he couldn't be more proud of it.

"Do I dazzle you?" he eased, offering a sparkling show of white teeth.

"No!" Chi-Chi shook her head violently. "Yer not a gentleman! Yer not even a regular man! You go around all puffed up like a peacock, and don't even see yer gettin' feathers everywhere! Yer a big mess, and now we gotta clean you up!"

The princess put her hands to her heart. "Real men don't care what other people think," she expounded. "They do their thang without worryin' about it all the time! Men like Goku, and Obotchaman!" At this, she seized her partner's hand. "They're a lot more manly than you are!"

"Miss Chi-Chi..." Obotchaman whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.

"Really?" Yamcha was honestly surprised by this, his face drooping in a dumbfounded slump.

"Really," Chi-Chi confirmed, smiling. Then, her head whipped back to the boy. "Obotchaman, now!" she cried, her crisp command suiting her determination.

Obotchaman nodded, and in a swish of sewn shadow, they pulled off their cloaks, revealing their new battle duds. Chi-Chi was garbed in a vicious suit of armor, vaguely Norse in inspiration, and complete with a pair of boomerang blades serving as flair on her helmet. Obotchaman was wearing a rugged, black Kevlar suit and a set of fingerless gloves, giving him the appearance of a police special forces operative.

They bumrushed Yamcha at breakneck speed, ready to knock him right off his throne. And even Pu'ar, most loyal of retainers, felt it best to clear out of the way of their charge.

Yamcha had no answer to this, nor a prayer.

Chi-Chi tore the boomerangs off her head and flung them at Yamcha's leaping figure, where they stuck into the bone throne, missing him by millimeters. {CHAAK!} As Yamcha became airborne in an ostentatious swash of cape, Obotchaman revealed two small throwing knives wedged in his fingers, and tossed them in a staggered pair that grazed the bandit's left cheek. {VREEEK!} Cringing as the blood dripped down his face, Yamcha landed with a short hop, fumbling with his fighting stance. He was too late; Chi-Chi had already prepared a gauntlet clad mitt for his troubles, a cast iron reminder of the wrath of a woman scorned.

With Chi-Chi and Obotchaman moving in for the kill, Yamcha was oddly serene, the outbreak of violence somehow triggering an intellectual moment within his consciousness. His flirtation with darkness had brought him much less power than training with the Invincible Old Master. All he had really learned was how to turn his back on people with his cape swishing behind him, and how to say pointlessly rude comments in an attempt at aloofness.

A mere three minutes later, and it was over.

* * *

"C'mon, Kuririn!" Goku called behind him, dragging the other boy by the arm. "Hurry up!"

"Jeez, Goku, I was asleep just five minutes ago," the young monk gasped, nearly tripping over his own two feet. "What's the big deal?"

"We gotta go see Arale-chan fight!" he told him, turning back to navigate through the jungle, hurdling shrubs and fallen tree trunks. "It might be over any minute!"

The two had noticed Arale's absence about ten minutes after she departed for the battlefield. Finding the crumpled up note, they made a beeline to the thicket, going straight down the cliff side and into the jungle. After spending seven months on the island previously, it was easy for them to infer where the imminent fight would take place. And they knew it was a fight; both could feel the blood boiling in their veins.

"Heh heh!" Goku snickered, giddy with excitement. "This is gonna be fun!"

In no time, they had made it to the thicket, edging through the tall grass one at a time. They could hear the distinct sound of skin and bone smacking against each other, and the guttural snorts of violent minds. Two blurs, orange and blue, were colliding like comets, moving in haphazard, jerky arcs that nevertheless seemed to carry a certain rhythm. The heat of battle Chi radiated out from their intersect points.

"Hey, it's ol' Jackie Chun!" Goku's face lit up in recognition. "What's that geezer doing here?"

"Wow, look at her go!" Kuririn gaped, squinting his eyes.

Arale and Jackie were dancing mad in fierce combat, their arms and legs ricocheting against each other. The old man was in top form, shooting out short jabs that both conserved energy and dealt out maximum damage. Most impressive, however, was Arale, who was demonstrating controlled chaos as she strove to topple the geezer. There was an iron look of determination in her that was rarely seen.

Arale let out a kyai as she thrust a perfect Jan-ken Scissors at Jackie, who blocked it by only a narrow margin. {KAK!} He whirled around with a back fist that Arale that had to duck, the tips of his knuckles ruffling her ponytails. {FWOOF!} The girl stuck out her leg in a sweep, dropping him to the ground and leaving him vulnerable. He compensated for this by spinning into a sort of break dance, legs gyrating in a pinwheel that put Arale on guard again. {GWRIIIN!}

Goku folded his arms, smiling with pride. (That's how ya do it!) "Arale, don't use the Jan-Ken Punch!" he shouted, cupping her hands over his mouth. "He knows that technique!"

"Got it, Go-kun!" Arale flashed her pearly whites, while knocking away the old man's side kick.

"Your fighting techniques are far above an amateur's," Jackie complimented, throwing a rapid series of one-two punches to keep her on her toes. "Perhaps you can handle this little tactic."

He jumped back away from Arale's hook, and then seemed to shimmer in the darkness. {ZNNNNN!} Suddenly, there was two, three, four Jackie Chun's surrounding her. He had employed the Zan-Zo-Ken Shadow Double technique, a illusionist bluff familiar to those who experienced the 21st Tenka'ichi Budokai, but unknown to everyone else. Perhaps this mystery move would catch Arale off guard.

Or perhaps not. "You split into ghosts!" Arale squealed, the pupils dancing in her eyes. "That's real cool!" She took a brief moment to evaluate the phantoms, and went straight for the left-most image with a punch to the gut. {BWAM!} Her insight was true, and the real Jackie Chun crumpled into himself with pain, the phantom fakes vanishing shortly thereafter.

"I gotcha, I gotcha!" Arale cheered, clapping her hands in glee.

"Eaargh..." the old man wheezed. "Sharp eye for a kid in glasses." His expression became flat, as he caught his breath. "Though not really appropriate eyewear for a fight."

Without fanfare, he threw a punch straight for the bridge of Arale's spectacles. A miscalculation, as his fist crunched against them as if he were pounding a concrete wall. {KOOONG!} He howled in pain, a pulsing, red welt appearing on his knuckles. "What the hell are those things made of?" he shrieked, stroking his injured golf grip.

"Titanium construct and fiberglass!" she answered, tapping her frames. "Special order at the Penguin Village optometrist's office!"

"Hmph!" Jackie snorted derisively. "Smart aleck."

He made a short huff, and performed a wickedly fast roundhouse that caught Arale on the right cheek. {PAF!} Moving with the impact, she recovered quickly enough to execute a retort strike, rattling the old man jaw with a clumsy hook. {BSSH!} Jackie was able to deflect the next attack, his forearm swinging up to whack away a punch to the solar plexus. {POOCK!} He then gambled on a open palm thrust for Arale's chin, but she jived under it, going for his gut with a round of body blows.

Goku and Kuririn cheered as the girl took the offensive, forcing Jackie back. {BAM BAM BAM!} Arale's limbs were pounding away at the old man's defenses like a coal miner on amphetamines; she would not let up for a second. What's more, she was scoring more and more hits on him, his body bruising and his kung fu jacket rumpling. He was moving on autopilot now, his blocks becoming more and more lethargic.

Jackie tucked into a roll that gave him a little room from the pint-sized pulverizer. As Arale started her approach once again, he reared back like a stallion, gathering himself up one last time. "No more of this!" he bellowed, clasping his hands in front of him. "The moment of truth has come!"

With a low hum, he began to gather up energy for what looked to be his final attack. The life currents of Chi interacted with natural law, and Jackie was becoming a force of nature himself. His hands were now giving off a spark shower, fizzling out as small embers on the ground. Soon, he had collected a full charge, holding electricity in his grip like a ticking time bomb. {KSHHHHH...!}

Goku's hair stood on end, as if electrified itself. "It's the zap-zap thing!" he shouted, lurching forward. "Watch out, Arale-chan!"

It was too late for anyone to stop the old man's desperation move. "BANGKOK SURPRISE PRIZE!" he roared, and an arcing stream of galvanism jolted out of his fingertips towards Arale. {KZZAAAAA!}

But instead of evading the attack, as Goku himself might have done, Arale looked within the saffron light, greeting it with a easy-going smile. Her stance didn't waver in the slightest, even as the thunder blast hit her full on. Instead of immediately frying her circuits as it might have done, the energy moved her across the ground, her shoes making skid marks in the hard earth. Her fingers was pressed together, her arms in a traditional position for controlling the flow of Chi.

{gzzzzzz...!} Arale was redirecting the lightning through her systems, transferring the current around from one part to another so that no part of her mechanized construct was overloaded. Goku and Kuririn watched in awe as she glowed with surging sparks, casting radiance over the trees and bushes. "Can't letcha win that easy!" She smiled through her struggles, barely containing the crackling energy within her. "That not what a martial artist does!"

And with a quick change of posture, she fired the lighting straight back at Jackie, toasting him with 20 megawatts of high voltage current. {ZABOOOSH!} "AAARRRGGGHHH!" he wailed, his body convulsing with pain. His clothes were fraying into confetti, his hair falling out in tuffs.

When it was over, all that was left was the blackened form of Kame-Sen'nin, twitching on the ground in the fetal position. "B-better than a Friday night bender," he gibbered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he caught a well-deserved break from the violence, petering out into unconsciousness.

Arale's first serious encounter with a martial arts master...and she had won.

"Whadaya know!" Goku remarked, walking over with a stupefied Kuririn. "Jackie really was the turtle guy after all!"

"I have restored my honor." Arale admired her handiwork, scowling in a passable impersonation of a tormented prince.

* * *

"Dad, this is my boyfriend, Obotchaman," Chi-Chi bubbled, presenting the bashful boy to the burly bruiser in front of them. "We met a little while ago when I visited his hometown."

Gyu-Mao's mouth displayed a pristine collection of huge, white teeth. "Well, howdy, lil' man!" he greeted, seemingly unaware of his intimidating presence. "You must be quite the gentleman to win the heart of my little Chi-Chi! Yer a strong kid, right?"

"Y-yes, sir, Lord Gyu Mao," Obotchaman responded, offering a wavering smile. "I'm the second strongest person in my village."

"That's a good lad!" The Ox King clapped the boy hard on the shoulder, causing him to buckle under the weight. "You'll be a fine son-in-law, once we break you in!"

"Dad's going to redo the marriage contracts," Chi-Chi filled in, turning to Obotchaman with a sunshiny face. "We're gonna transfer my engagement to Goku over to you!"

"M-Marriage?" Obotchaman stammered, a drop of sweat appearing on his forehead. "Aren't we going just a bit too fast, Miss Chi-Chi?"

Chi-Chi just giggled and took his hand, leading him on into the castle ruins.

Off to the side in a crumpled heap, was Yamcha, wrapped in bandages. Black and blue with at least four broken bones, the one-time dark lord moaned as the pain pulsated throughout his broken body. Pu'ar was doting on his master with a canister of salve, wearing a doctor's shining head mirror on his brow. Pu'ar was quite put out, his discontent making for a rough bedside manner.

"This never would've happened if you'd listened to me." Pu'ar scolded him like a matron, spreading some salve over Yamcha sore spots without making the effort to be gentle. "I told you that Twilight book was bad for your brain."

"I'm learning." The desert bandit winced as the antiseptic stung his open cuts.

Pu'ar exhaled exaggeratedly. "Lord Yamcha, I'm tired of being a robber," the cat confessed, meeting his gaze. "I want to go back to shapeshifting school to earn my masters. Then, I want a respectable career entertaining derelicts at a sideshow carnival. It's always been my dream."

Yamcha picked up the short ponytail draped over his shoulder, and sighed. "Yeah, this whole Byronic Hero thing was getting pretty stupid, anyway," he agreed. "I'm going to find a girl who doesn't care about that crap." He rose unsteadily to his feet, reaching for his crutches. "For now, shapeshifting might be a good change of pace for both of us." He grinned toothily. "Who knows? Maybe I'll learn how to transform into a werewolf."

"We talked about this," Pu'ar warned him. "No more Twilight references."

"Yeah, yeah," he sighed. With a snip of surgical shears, Yamcha cut off his ponytail, leaving him with the boyish cut of an everyday teenager. "Alright, let's get going!" he said, hobbling away from the Fry-Pan Mountain area. "Where's this shapeshifting school, anyway?"

"Penguin Village," Pu'ar replied, bringing up the rear.

* * *

The morning was alive with the cawing of indigenous birds, streaking through the gentle skies in swathes of all colors. A light wind brushed through the flowers, spreading their seeds to other parts of the island. Even the wreckage of Kame House seemed not to be a sign of destruction, but the shorn skin of a new beginning.

"Well, that's it for the food," Kuririn grumbled, dragging a large sack to the hovering Kinto'un. "You better make this last, Goku."

"It might fill me up until lunch," Goku guessed, receiving the bag. "If I don't get hungry before then."

"Yeah, just an appetizer..." The monk seethed, mourning the loss of his plum rice balls.

"Arale, I was wrong about you," Kame-Sen'nin apologized, a lump of clothes resting in his arms. "You're also earned one of these." He presented Arale with her orange gi, the Kame symbol splendid in the shining sun. "Congratulations, my young martial artist."

Arale shook her head. "Thanks-cha, but I'm not a Kame school student," she smiled, pushing the garments away. "I trained under Go-kun, so I'm gonna get a uniform with his symbol on it!"

Kame-Sen'nin returned her sentiments, nodding sagely. He walked up to Goku, his hands clasped behind his back. "My boy, I'm so proud," he said. "You found just what you needed on your trip around the world. A wonderful girlfriend to balance your passion for the art with a passion for life. Living a full life is just as important as training hard, and I'm glad you've finally realized that."

"Aw!" Goku scratched his head, a bashful smile on his face. "Heh heh heh!"

"You keep up your training, too, Arale," Kame-Sen'nin said. "Balance is for everyone, and Goku's regimen seems to be doing you a lot of good."

"Will do!" Arale agreed.

As Goku helped Arale onto Kinto'un, Lunch stepped up. "Come over and see us again, kids!" she cried, waving up them. "I'll promise I'll hide the pepper shaker!"

"Tchaikovsky's final symphony awaits your next visit, young masters!" Sea Turtle said, his cello leaning against his shell.

"Right!" Resting his hand within Arale's, Goku looked towards the outside world. Both of their eyes shone with the desire for new fights and new friends. "Kinto'un, go!" they cried simultaneously, and the cloud shot out into the blue, spiraling in loop-de-loops that created a green snake of gas behind them. "Go, go, go!"

The group watched them disappear, leaving nothing but creamy whipped cumulus behind him. Kuririn walked to the old man. "So, master, about Kame House..." he ventured, his voice breaking the silence left in Goku and Arale's wake.

"Don't worry, Kuririn." Kame-Sen'nin sniffed up a bit of the morning dew, in surprisingly good cheer. "I've already made arrangements for its replacement."

* * *

Senbei goggled at the curious envelope, bearing a return address to the Western Sea, and a stamp featuring Kasumi from Dead or Alive. His eye wandering surreptitiously to the scantily clad ninja, he soon tore open the letter, revealing a single piece of folded up paper. The crisp typeface suggested a legal matter; a very unfriendly Arial 12. Upon reading the message in its entirety, he found it even less friendly.

* * *

YOU OWE ME: 1 KAME HOUSE

PRICE: 500,000 ZENI

(signed) THE INVINCIBLE OLD MASTER

* * *

"ARALEEEEE!" Senbei screamed to the heavens, rousing a family of owls from their nesting grounds.

* * *

End

Author's Notes: Well, another fanfic makes its way out of my head and into the world. These past few years, we've seen a revivial of media in the U.S. based on the original Dragon Ball, so this is something I wanted to do to ride the wave. Goku and his Penguin Village counterpart Arale offer no end of opportunities to explore the Akira Toriyama mythos and all his old concepts, such as the Jan-ken technique and Jackie Chun. I hope I did justice to the true Kame-Sen'nin; he's a lot more than just some old pervert.

Until next fanfic, Ja ne! ^_^


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